PLAN B
by yangatheart
Summary: What if Craig Dean and John Paul McQueen still weren't speaking at the beginning of what would've been McDean week? Could they overcome their stubborn pride to become friends again? COLLABORATION STORY between myself and Kimbaforeva.
1. Chapter 1

_**PLEASE READ**_

**_Hello, it's been a while, I know but hopefully this will be worth it.._**

**_Before the story synopsis bit, I just have to mention that this story is a collaboration between myself and Jon (a lot of you may know him by his youtube username Kimbaforeva) and I'm really pleased he agreed to write it with me. It's been fun._**

**_Okey-dokes, fic stuff. We were going to post this when it was finished but as it's so near to completion (to the point that only my untimely demise will stop it getting finished) we decided we'd post now._**

**_I'm not going to say exactly how many chapters there are, that'd spoil it for you, but I will say that if we post every alternate day like we intend to, it'll take you all the way into next spring...good eh?_**

**_Right then, what you need to know..._**

**_It's canon/AU. So up to the fight at the football match, everything is canon (though there are some 'flashbacks' of sorts that are kind of like missing scenes if you will)._**

**_The main difference between this and canon is that it's McDean week and JPC still aren't speaking. That's all you need to know about that really. Some things are different but we'll let you pick those up as you go._**

**_As for how we've collaborated. Basically we split the characters up:_**

**_Jon writes for Craig & Darren and I write John Paul, Spike and Jacqui (don't freak out). So depending who's POV it is depends on who's character it is. Conversations between the characters were written by us both but again, the chapter built around it depends on the character POV. Hope that makes sense._**

**_Lastly, if you're a member of FH, I would suggest reading this fic over there, simply because certain parts of this fic will be more visually interesting than on here. If you want to join (they're now accepting new members) then you can PM me on youtube (username yangathear1). _**

**_Sorry for the long writers note._**

**_Enjoy the story x_**

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><p><em><strong>DAY ONE<strong>_

**Monday 14th May**

**John Paul & Spike**

**Part One**

"Hiya".

"You look nice" Spike says, leaning in to kiss me. I'm still not used to this kind of gesture, even though we've seen each other for a while now, so as I assume he's going for my cheek, it ends up being a bit misplaced and landing on my jaw instead.

"Sorry, thanks, uh...you too." I look over what he's wearing with a more critical eye, noting the neatly pressed, short sleeved shirt and the designer label jeans. "Are we going somewhere special? I thought we'd just going back to mine or I'd have made more of an effort."

"No, I thought we could go out for a drink though, make the most of the nice weather."

"Oh, okay then." I perk up as we start walking, especially when he starts telling me he thinks he's managed to score some tickets to see this group called Backdrifts that do gigs in Liverpool.

"I thought their gigs always sold out?" He nods his head in agreement but gets this really smug look on his face.

"They do, that's why this is so cool. My mate Roads was meant to be taking one of his girlfriends but he got offered this really sweet gig Djing at some wannabe wags wedding on the same night so he said they were on offer to the highest bidder".

"Roads? What kind of name is that?" I ask, feeling a bit stupid when he quirks his brow at me. I suppose it is a daft question to ask someone called Spike.

"You look cute when you blush" he chuckles. I roll my eyes, blushing even harder than before. Clearing my throat, I get him back onto the topic we'd been discussing.

"He's the friend I was telling you about that likes to think he's a bit Buddhist. He says life is a journey and no matter which road you take, you'll meet your destiny, hence the name". He shrugs. "Anyway, the tickets are up for grabs but he's giving me first refusal if I want them."

"Cool" I take a seat across from him on the picnic bench, about to ask more details when I suddenly feel like I've been hit by one of those wrecking balls straight to my gut. "Hang on...what're we doing here?" I sound a bit panicked I know but finding myself at The Dog, knowing Craig might be in there, has that effect on me. Spike just frowns puzzled and looks around.

"We're having a drink, like we said" he answers nonchalantly smiling back at me. He's looking at me really intently though and I can't help wondering if my expression's betraying me. "That _is_ okay right? You don't want to go somewhere else instead?" Of course I want to go somewhere else. It's been ages since me and Craig stopped hanging out together, months since he punched me, splitting my lip, crushing my pride and smashing my heart to pieces with just one swing of his fist. It's been endless days since our friendship became nothing more than a memory of the best days of my life but I can hardly tell Spike that though can I?

"It's fine really, I just thought...you know, with you working here, you'd want to go somewhere else but this is fine, honestly, I can't think of anything better." Okay so maybe I sold it a little bit too much that I'm fine with being here but I will be...so long as I don't see Craig, hear his name or think about him. If I do any of those, I think I might fall to pieces. Spike doesn't look too convinced though, despite my award winning performance so I plaster on a huge smile and lean over the picnic table to kiss him, just so he's sure.

"Oi, watch out!" Pulling back from Spike just as he starts to deepen the chaste peck I was giving him, I look back over my shoulder to see what the commotion is, trying not to laugh at the sight of the woman drenched in red wine as I turn back to Spike.

"She doesn't look impressed".

"Hmm, I bet Darren won't be either, not if she stumps him with a dry cleaning bill" he says dryly.

"Why would she do that?" He opens his mouth to answer but then his expression turns thoughtful and he shakes his head.

"Forget it, so...what're you having then?" I tell him my preference and then watch him go inside the pub, relief coursing through me that he didn't ask me to go with him, sparing me from having to see Craig, for a while at least. It's not like I _never _see him. I mean, we have some of the same classes so I can't really avoid him at school but when it comes to break time, I make sure I'm on the football field hanging out with some of the younger lads or in the common room if he's outside. Of course it's inevitable that I've seen him in the village too but I've never purposely gone somewhere that I know he's likely to be because that would be like emotional suicide.

I try to push him from my mind as I sit there waiting for my boyfriend to come back, the overwhelming feeling of loss I experience every time I do think about Craig already attacking me. Holding my head in my hands, determined not to shed any more tears, I try and think of something else...anything. It's easier said than done though and as I sit there like that, with the late afternoon sun baking down on me, I give in to my inner masochist and let my mind wander to Craig and some of the happier times we'd spent in each others company because that sure beats agonizing over my loss.

Sitting up on the bench, my eyes closed, face tilted upwards towards the heat, I start thinking about the plans we'd once discussed about going to soccer camp in America and how they'd ended up falling through because he decided he wanted to go on holiday with Sarah instead. I can't help wondering if he's still going to go to Tenerife or if he's got a refund instead, now him and Sarah have split up. I'm just chilling there, mulling it over, wondering if we'd have ended up going after all, when I get this tingling sensation down my spine, the hairs at the nape of my neck prickling up. Sensing someone watching me, I close my eyes again, my breathing becoming shallower as I listen for any movement or something else that will confirm my fear because instinctively, even though it takes all my will power not to turn and see him, I know it's Craig.

I don't know how long I stay like that, it could be mere seconds or long minutes but either way, it feels like an eternity. The whole time, I might not be moving but my mind isn't idle. It's like I have this part of me, watching what I'm doing, asking why I'm just sitting there instead of trying to mend the most important friendship I've ever had. I can tell myself I'm hurt and that Craigs' apology wasn't enough and he should've tried harder but that persistent little voice won't pipe down. It keeps asking me if my stubbornness is really going to prevent me from mending bridges. It's not the first time it's tried to break through the barriers I've put up either but for some reason, this time, it's practically screaming at me to do something, before it's too late.

Hearing movement behind me, I take a second to compose myself and then turn around.

"Craig?" I say his name quietly, something I've barely allowed myself to do in months, the sound of it dying on my lips in an instant.

"I thought I may as well get a few, save keep going to the bar and I got us some crisps too" Spike says as he makes his way over, "I wasn't sure what flavour you liked though, so I got different flavours, hope that's all right?" he adds, dropping the packets to the table and passing me a bottle. My gaze flicks past him to the doorway and he follows it, raising his eyebrows in query when he sees nothing there.

"Are you okay? Do you want to go inside out of the sun? You don't look too well" he says, concern etched in his face as well as in his voice. Trying to drop the confusion I can feel writ in my features, I shake my head, taking a long pull from the bottle of ice cold lager.

"I'm fine, just..." he smiles at me expectantly, "I'm fine". What am I going to say really? 'Sorry I look like shit, I could've sworn you were Craig?' He frowns but doesn't challenge me, turning his back on me as he peruses the contents of the pond. I must have been wrong and it wasn't Craig looking at me but Spike, my boyfriend, the guy who's supposed to send shivers down my spine and make goosebumps break out all over my body. That would be the plausible explanation for it but somehow, I can't seem to convince myself of that. Maybe it's because he's never had that effect on me before, even when he's standing inches from me smiling or kissing me or maybe it's because I could swear that I could _feel_ Craigs' presence there, caught a waft of that familiar musk scent of his on the breeze. Bloody hell, I can still smell it now.

"So, when's the next exam then?" Spike breaks into my thoughts and for the next hour or so he keeps up a constant string of conversation, making it virtually impossible for me to think of anything else as I concentrate on answering him. Sure enough, thoughts of Craig slip back into my subconscious as he keeps me entertained, regaling me with stories of his gigs and his mates until I'm laughing along with him like a decent boyfriend should. Unfortunately, it inevitably turns cooler and when Spike does suggest going inside, I can't think of a valid excuse for us not to.

"I want to see if you're as good at pool as you say you are" he says, already getting to his feet and grabbing the empty bottles.

"Um...yeah, all right". I walk ahead of him until I step through the door, immediately spotting Craig over the other side of the room. Halting in my tracks, I get that sucker punch to the gut feeling I always experience when I see him. I unconsciously take a step back, standing on Spike's foot as he follows in behind me.

"Ouch...ah ow, bloody hell!" I turn in surprise, practically glaring at Spike to shut up so he doesn't draw a certain someones attention towards us. Easier said than done when he's hopping around, clutching his foot in his hand, blocking the doorway. Luckily Craig doesn't notice as he continues collecting glasses.

"Sorry...you all right though?"

"I'll live if that's what you're asking." I smile back sheepishly, feeling like a right pillock. "You do know I have a disadvantage at pool now though right? So if you do beat me, which you might not, that'll be my excuse" he says grinning. I can't help laughing, shaking my head when he puts on his sad puppy face.

"Deal...listen, you go and sit down and I'll get the drinks in...same as usual?" He nods his head and then hobbles off towards the far side of the room where the pool table's situated. Figuring I can get the drinks in before Craig comes back to the bar, I go over. Standing at the far end of the bar, I wait for Darren to serve me, watching Craig from my vantage point as he stacks the empty glasses into neat piles, wiping down the empty tables as he goes.

I've missed this. It seems like forever since I was last in a position to just watch him. I used to do it all the time when he'd come round to mine to do homework of play on my play-station. I'd sit at the top of my bed propped up against the pillows, glancing up from my book as I pretended to work, while he'd lay sprawl at the foot of it on his tummy or sit crossed legged facing me. He'd help Jack out behind the bar on the weekends too, working diligently and efficiently like he is now but back then, he'd come over with an orange juice and sit with me for a bit between collecting the glass or filling the fridge.

"What're you having mate?" Darren asks, breaking me from my reverie.

"Two pints of Fosters please". I shift in my seat, waiting for him to tell me I'm not old enough to be served or come out with some barbed insult disguised as wit but he doesn't, he just looks at me thoughtfully for a second or two, quirks his eyebrow at me, shrugs and then grabs a couple of glasses. Okay, what the hell is that about? I glance back towards Craig to see he's looking at me, his hand raised, poised to take the tea towel from his shoulder. My breath catches in my throat as I stare back, my gaze locked on his for those all too brief seconds before he ducks his head and turns away.

I want to go over there, ask him if he misses not being around me as much as I miss him but I can't, I'm too afraid of what he'd say and besides, my arse feels like it's welded to the bar stool I'm sitting on. I could swear though, just for that moment, that I saw a hint of regret in his eyes too.

"So, big day Friday then...getting anything nice for your birthday?" Darren asks from behind the pump. Shaking myself mentally, I will myself to stop watching Craig, turning instead to his step brother.

"Huh...oh, no idea...I doubt it though, we don't exactly splash out on birthdays, there's that many of them, you know?" How does he know anyway. I've never mentioned it? Then it occurs to me..._Mercedes _or maybe Spike...he works here, probably dropped it into conversation at some point.

"Ah well, you never know eh...£4.70 mate...cheers". I hand over a fiver and then, taking the drinks, I scan the room trying to spot where Spike is sat, my eyes drawn towards Craig instead as he disappears into the gents. I think about going after him, putting all this behind us once and for all but I can't bring myself to because I can't stand the thought of hearing him say anything else that could completely destroy me. Instead, I tell myself to be grateful for what I have go, smiling at Spike as I make my way over.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading x<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thanks for the reviews. Here's the next part and it's Craig so was written by Jon.**_

_**Just one thing. The last chapter ended with Craig going into the gents, he didn't he went upstairs...oops. **_

_**PART TWO**_

_**Monday 14th May**_

_**Craig**_

I really could be doing without this today, a whole shift working alongside my idiotic step-brother as he attempts to woo just about any piece of skirt that walks through the door. He's doing it now, leaning across the bar, chatting up a couple of girls who've just walked in. They asked for a bottle of red five minutes back, they're still waiting. I mean there's no question they're hot, if I was even remotely interested in that side of things right now then maybe, just maybe it'd be me doing a whole load of drooling over the bar optics. But I can't be arsed with it anymore, and to be honest it's just plain pissing me off watching him make a complete tit of himself and leaving all of our customers feeling totally uncomfortable. He's already made one poor sod flee in terror by asking if her last name was Jacobs, 'cos you're a real cracker' he'd said. Which to be fair she didn't seem too fussed by… until he asked if she believed in love at first sight, then she fucking legged it.

"Oi, Darren!"

"What?" He's not even bothering to look at me, cheeky twat.

"I don't think their tits want any drinks mate, but you could always get that wine they've just asked you for."

"Wha… I… just one moment ladies, I'll be right back." Ha, look at him getting all flustered, serves him right!

And here he comes, to give me an earful no doubt… as if I care. Not sure I was expecting him to grab hold of my arm and yank me into the passageway though.

"Oi, will you get off."

"Just shut up and get in here now."

"What the fuck is your problem?" He's really pissed me off now, he didn't need to do that in front of the whole fucking pub.

"_My_ problem? _Your_ problem more like! I dunno where you got your face from this morning but I hope to Christ they gave you a receipt for it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've been in a right foul mood all day, I've had it up to here with you mate. In fact come to think of it I can't remember the last time I saw you crack a smile, your starting to look like that dwarf from that film."

"What bloody film?" Twat, if he's thinking what I think he's thinking I am going to lamp him one!

"You know, that film where the dwarfs all toddle off to work, and then all their little animal friends get together and have a house cleaning party… they all have a lovely time. I'm sure Steph's got it on DVD."

"Snow White?"

"GRUMPY! That's the one, Grumpy from Snow White."

"Oh very fucking original Darren, you ever thought of being a stand-up comic?"

"All I'm saying is, you need to sort yourself out if you're gonna work behind my bar. I'm not having you scaring away paying customers."

"ME scaring them away? Are you having a laugh?"

"Look, just get out there and plaster a smile on your face, is that really too much to ask?"

"Yes. Now are we done? There's customers waiting."

I'm just about to leave when he stops me again, grabbing hold of my cheeks and squeezing them like I'm two years old.

"Oi, what you doing?"

"You see this gorgeous little face of yours?"

"Get the fuck off me now."

"This is the face of Chester's Bonniest Baby 1989. Now if it was good enough for them judges, then it's good enough for my punters. Hop to it, Deano."

"Oh whatever, I'm gonna go and collect some glasses from outside, and I might not bother coming back if your gonna carry on like this."

I finally shake the idiot away and walk back into the pub…"Oh come on mate, I was only having a laugh"… leaving him to go and find his next victim.

I make my way outside into the sun, it's gorgeous out here and yet I'm stuck inside for hours on end… with Darren of all people! Although if I wasn't working I'd just be in my room anyway, Craig Dean the loner has officially returned. I don't care though, I got used to being a loner a long time ago. I just wish people would leave me the hell alone and stop asking questions that I'm never going to answer, stuff like 'What's wrong Craig? Are you feeling ok Craig? Have you still not sorted things out with John Paul yet Craig?' No I fucking haven't, I wish they'd just all keep their noses out of my bloody business.

I've barely got a foot out the door when I'm confronted with the last thing I ever wanted to see. John Paul, my ex-best mate, the person who once told me he loved me, kissing the twat that he calls his boyfriend. Not just a peck neither, a full on kiss with that absolute wanker. They'll be shagging next, over the fucking bench not caring who's around to see them. Just the thought of it is enough to make my blood run cold and my heart slow down, why the hell is he kissing him? I can't take this, I've got to get away from them before I do something I'll regret.

I quickly turn around and bolt through the entrance to the pub… straight into one of the hotties from the bar.

"Oi, watch out!"

Fuck, I've plastered the poor cow in red wine. She's been waiting at that bar for twenty minutes and now I've gone and chucked the whole lot over her. I don't stop to help though, if I did that then John Paul is bound to see me and I can't deal with being around him. So I make my way back behind the bar without a word, and I can't say I'm surprised when I see the woman re-enter with a face like thunder. She's about to give me a piece of her mind when Darren beats her to it.

"Craig?"

"What?"

"_Oi, have you seen what your idiot barman has just…_"

"Hang on a minute love, I'll be with you in two ticks… Craig, where are the glasses?"

"There weren't any out there."

"_No I won't wait a minute, I'm covered in re…_"

"Just wait a minute will you love, I'm talking… what do you mean there's none out there?"

"There's none out there, alright? Jesus!" Can the guy not understand English now?

"_I'm not standing for this, I could sue you for…"_

"Can you not put a sock in it for five seconds! I-am-talking! You know sometimes I wonder why I don't just turn gay."

"And what is that supposed to mean exactly?"

"Eh? It's not meant to mean anything Craig, I'm just saying it'd be a lot less hassle than having to deal with women like her... are you alright mate? You look like you've seen Casper."

"_Err, hello! Are one of you going to answ…_"

"Yeah I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?"

"Right then, well get back out there and fetch me some glasses then."

There is no way in hell I am going back outside to watch those two being all touchy feely and lovey dovey with each other. "I already told you, there's none out there!"

"_Oh for fu…_"

"Craig there's barely any glasses on the shelves, they've gotta be out there. Unless the phantom glass snatcher of Hollyoaks has struck again, which frankly I'm finding hard to believe."

"Can I get some service over here please?" Fuck, where the hell did he come from? The twat from outside is stood at the bar waiting for me to serve him, and I can't help but give him my best filthy look as he waits for a response from me… AS IF I'm going to fucking serve him.

"You know what Darren? I reckon there might have been some glasses outside after all. I'll just go and check."

"Finally! Right Madame, how can I help y... Christ, what happened to you?"

"_About time too! That idiot over there has just…_" I walk away from the bar as she slags me off rotten, can't say I blame her, not that I actually give a toss. The only thing my brain is processing right now is that HE is in here, which means John Paul is out there on his own.

I wish I could say I had the bottle to go over and talk to him, ask him if he's alright, but I know I won't. I just wanna see him for a few seconds without that slimy dickhead slobbering all over him, so I walk out on to the porch and stand there, watching him with his back to me. That familiar feeling consumes me, a feeling I've been experiencing all too often recently, one that usually results in me raiding the cellar for bottles of Stella to take up to my room. I hate that we don't talk anymore. I hate that I've lost my best mate, the only real friend that I ever had. I hate that he seems to be coping with the loss of our friendship a million times better than I am. But most of all, the thing that I hate more than anything else… I hate that he's in a relationship with someone. I hate that he's got a boyfriend who he spends his time with - time that he used to spend with me. Someone who he kisses and no doubt does a whole lot more with. It's that thought that tears me up inside, it's constantly playing on my mind, driving me insane. And my family wonder what the hell is wrong with me? If only they knew.

I don't hang about, I probably look stupid just standing in the middle of the doorway and I really don't want him to see me. I pick up a bunch of glasses from a nearby table - to get Darren off my back more than anything - then I go back inside again. I don't even look up as I pass the prick with the ridiculous name as he heads back outside, the thought of smashing every one of these glasses off his fat head is way more appealing than it really should be right now.

The rest of the shift runs relatively smoothly, aside from the odd sarcastic remark from Darren, but to be honest it's going in one ear and out the other now. I've managed to completely avoid the lovers outside… well, Spock came in for re-fills but I just so happened to need the toilet at that point, funny how the urge came on almost instantly. But apart from that it's going alright, I'm actually starting to think I may survive this last half hour so that I can retreat back up to my safe haven.

"Craig, go and collect some glasses if you're just gonna stand there doing nowt. You've not served a single customer since you collected the last lot from outside."

"What the hell am I Darren? A barman or a bloody glass collector?"

"Comes with the job description mate, now run along and fetch the glasses, _the manager_ has spoken." Urgh, why must he insist on putting on that ridiculous voice all the time? I'm sure he thinks it's funny… it's not.

"Manager? Ha! Darren you couldn't manage a wank, let alone a pub."

"Ahhh, was that Craigy cracking a joke? Well I never thought I'd see the day. Someone slipped you a happy pill mate?"

"It'll take more than a happy pill to sort me out," I mumble, not actually wanting him to hear my little self-admission there.

"Sorry what was that?"

"Nuffin, now how about I collect those glasses, eh?"

"_Riiiiight_." So I leave him looking somewhat confused yet again. I seem to be doing that a lot with people lately, leaving them wondering what the hell is going on. None of them can help me with this though, I need to sort it out for myself. And I will… soon. For now though I am more than happy to mope about up in my bedroom with my good friend Mrs Artois, the only friend I have.

I walk over to the far end of the pub, picking up half empty glasses and crisp wrappers along the way. Honestly I should be paid time and a half for this crap, where the frig is Freda the cleaner when you need her? Some bloody cleaner she is! All she does is sit on her fat arse all morning demanding cups of tea 'for the worker'. How a woman who stinks as bad as she does can ever pick up a mop is beyond me. I'm lost in my thoughts as I silently curse damn Freda, thinking up ways I can poison her tea in the morning as I stack the glasses and wipe away the beer stains from the table. I'm just about to reach for the tea-towel that I've slung across my shoulder when that familiar voice stops me dead in my tracks.

"Two pints of Fosters please."

I swear to God I nearly drop the whole fucking stack of glasses as I look up to see John Paul standing at the bar. I thought they'd have gone home ages ago, and now here he is stood in front of me looking… err… _yeah_. Just as I did on the porch outside, I am now stood in the middle of the pub staring at him. I can never take my eyes off him when he's around - not that he's around much. I can feel my eyes becoming damp as I take him in, and I know I seriously need to get a grip, but it's hard, you know? Really fucking hard. And no, I don't mean it in _that_ way... although, there have been one or two occasions when I… no, forget I said anything. I just wish thing's hadn't turned out the way they have, that we hadn't wasted all these months not speaking, and with the way things are right now I can't see us ever getting passed it. The fact that this whole mess is all my fault just makes it worse, but what's done is done, I can't take any of it back now. I battered the shit out of my best mate just to save face in front of Sonny fucking Valentine and he's never gonna forgive me for that… _I'm_ never gonna forgive myself.

My eyes lock with his for a brief second as he looks towards me, and in those few seconds I feel as if all the air in my body is sucked out of me. I can't do this, it would be so easy for me to go over there and apologise, beg him for forgiveness and get our friendship back to how things were… but it'd also be the hardest thing in the world, knowing he could reject me in a second. Where would that leave me, eh? So I take the easy way out, turning away from him to dump the glasses on the bar before making a beeline for the passage doorway and straight upstairs. I've got a few bottles stashed away up here from last night, and I bloody well need them. 

_**Thank you for reading x**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Big thanks to everyone reading and reviewing this, it means a lot.**

**I especially appreciate it as this is Jons' first fic (that he's shared anyway) and getting feedback (as any writer will tell you) is always wonderful (and useful too). Rest assured even though he isn't posting the fic on here, he is seeing your comments. x**

**Right then, here is the next part.**

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><p><em><strong>Monday 14th May<strong>_

**_John Paul & Spike_**

**_Part Three_**

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Spike looks at me pointedly, folding his arms, showing he means business. I don't know what I'm supposed to say. I hadn't even realised he could tell there was anything wrong. "No?...right then." He stands up and grabs his empty pint glass, then looks down at me with raised eyebrows as though he's expecting some kind of reaction. Not getting what he expects from me, he shakes his head and starts to walk away and I...I don't stop him. I just watch, disconnected as he heads over to the bar and says something to Darren before turning towards the door and it's at that point that I get my arse in gear and go after him.

"Spike wait!" He stops by the picnic bench we were sat at earlier, shoulders hunched, head down as he waits for me to say something. I walk up behind him, my hands stuffed deep in my pockets as I perch on the edge of the table.

"I'm sorry okay...God I'm saying that a lot today but I am, I don't know what's wrong with me tonight...I uh...think I'm just tired" I finish lamely. I'm lying through my back teeth but I can't tell Spike the truth, it doesn't seem fair. I just can't put into words the loss I've been feeling all evening at seeing Craig earlier. It's like I'm in mourning or something and any moment now the floodgates will open and the tears will come streaming out and I'm afraid that if that happens, I won't be able to stop them. The last few months have been hard enough, dealing with being outed at school and trying to come to terms with who I am, not to mention all the stuff with Craig but since meeting Spike and going out with him, things have seemed easier...at least they had until tonight.

Spike turns around, laughing wryly to himself and shaking his head. Then he comes over to sit at the bench, holding his hands out openly on the table in front of him.

"Look, why don't I make this easy for you" he says bluntly, gesturing for me to sit down with him. Everything about his body language and the tone he's using has my inner voice telling me that I don't want to be here and that the best thing for me would be to say goodbye and walk away. I never was good at listening to others so, resignedly, I get up off the table and sit down on the bench facing him.

"Make _what _easy for me?" I ask cautiously. He sighs heavily and narrows his eyes at me, looking at me thoughtfully. "Spike?" He sits straighter and rests his elbows on the wooden slats in front of him, leaning forward.

"_This_...you...me..._Craig_". His expression is impassive but his eyes are sharp, searching mine as he awaits my response. I want to blink or look away, I can feel tears burning in the corners of my eyes from the strain of holding his gaze but I'm absolutely certain if I do that, he'll be able to see everything.

"I don't know what you're talking about" I say calmly, discreetly wiping my palms on the denim of my jeans, out of sight beneath the table. He laughs lightly but there's no humour behind the sound.

"Please John Paul, give me some credit" he answers quietly. For fucks...seriously, I wasn't expecting this when I walked out of the pub. I concentrate on keeping my breathing level as I look at my boyfriend, even though my heart is hammering in my chest and I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks.

"Really Spike, I have no idea what..."

"Look, Hannah told me okay" he bursts out, rising from his seat and pacing. "She took great delight informing me that you used to fancy Craig" he finishes, his fingers spearing through his hair in frustration before dropping heavily to his sides.

"Oh that" I reply sheepishly, suddenly becoming fascinated in a knot of wood in the picnic table top, unable to look at him.

"Yeah that" he says abruptly. I feel the bench tilt a little as he sits back down but I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, ashamed of what he might see there. The silence stretches like a giant yawn, broken only by the sounds of the occasional splash from in the pond and Darren's voice, faint from inside the pub as he calls out the beginning of the karaoke. Spike's good at this staying silent business, much better than me it seems, as I eventually break the tension by voicing the one question that I kind of don't want to hear the answer to.

"Did she say anything else?" I ask quietly, finally raising my eyes to find him looking right at me, the sparkle of mirth I usually see in the hazel depths of his, gone. He's assessing me knowingly, as though he was expecting me to voice that exact question.

"What? Like telling me you loved him?" He must read my stunned expression because he bobs his head at me. "Yep, she got a kick out of telling me that too". Shit! He folds his arms and leans back out of reach as I make a move to placate him, my hand dropping with a dull thud to the table as he stares back impassively.

"Right...sorry about that, we were close you know. I should've told you myself" I say vaguely, not entirely sure he'll be convinced. He snorts derisively, slapping his hands down on the table between us, his expression mocking.

"Hmm, _close_..." he emphasises sarcastically, shaking his head, his jaw locked. My gaze flicks away as I stare fascinated at a moth flitting around one of the outdoor wall sconce's, trying to think what to say in answer. There's no need apparently, as he continues on, his tone both thoughtful and accusing.

"What I'm wondering though, is why she can't see you're still in love with him". I laugh, that's my first reaction and then I can feel my face flaming and my throat and mouth drying up as I quickly try to deny it.

"What! Where did you...why would...?" I bluster on but Spike cuts me off when he reaches out, his fingertip tracing over the back of my hand which is visibly shaking.

"John Paul, you still have feelings for the guy" he informs quietly. Lifting my gaze to his, I feel my throat tighten and tears sting my eyes at the compassion and concern I see radiating back at me. It's weird. I don't deserve his sensitivity or understanding over this and yet I find myself opening up because he seems prepared to listen and he's the only person I've felt I can really talk to in all this time.

"Is it that obvious?"

"..." He shrugs his shoulders, laughing lightly, his expression telling me it is. Fuck! My heart palpitations step it up a notch until I fear it may beat right out of my chest.

"Shit...do you think _he_knows?" I whisper, unconsciously turning my head and looking up at the darkness of Craig's bedroom window, wondering if he's in there sleeping or if he's even in there at all.

"God John Paul, that's not what I'm saying".

"Then what _are_ you saying?" God, this is so fucking confusing. I know I don't deserve his friendship or anything else any more but that doesn't mean I want him to mess with my head so much it explodes. His whole demeanour changes again, becoming tense, his head tilting to one side, eyebrows furrowed, his eyes shining at me with something resembling sympathy.

"I'm just trying to make this easy for you John Paul, don't...don't make me spell it out". I'm baffled by all this cryptic talk, my head still so far up my ass from seeing Craig earlier that I don't actually understand what he's saying until he stands up, walks around the side of the picnic bench to stand in front of me, holding his hand out to me in a sign of friendship. Shit!

"Spike I..._fuck_, I never meant to..." he shrugs off my explanation, dropping his hand to his side before I can take it, smiling dejectedly back at me.

"Hey, there's no rings on this finger, besides, I told you no strings". I nod my head but I can see he's saying what he is to save face and that, whether intentionally or not, I've hurt him.

"Yeah I know but still, I shouldn't have strung you along" I tell him sincerely. I mean it too. If I'd had any idea that I still felt as strongly as I ever did about Craig then I never would've got involved with Spike, at least...not until I got everything sorted in my mind first.

"I wanted to get over him, _I swear_and I thought I was doing but..."

"_But _you've seen him today and you're as in love with him as you ever were" he finishes, pretty much saying everything I just realised. I can hardly bear to look at him now, I can only bow my head in shame as I whisper an apology.

"I'm _so_sorry Spike." He stays silent for a moment or two, shifting from one foot to another in front of me until I lift my eyes to meet his. He smiles again, this time one that looks genuine as it reaches his eyes.

"Me too" he says sincerely, losing himself in thought. We fall quite for a while, the sound of someones...I think it's Carmel's, God awful singing cutting through the quiet of the night, easing the tension between us somewhat. He eventually looks up and across at me and I'm surprised to see there's absolutely no hint of sadness or scorn on his face at all, just a comforting smile.

"Spill".

"What?"

"Spill it. It'll probably do you good to get it all off your chest so go on, spill it" he repeats, shrugging, leaning his backside on the table of the picnic bench and folding his arms. I raise my eyebrow and he nods, prompting me to do just that. For the next ten minutes or so, I talk, telling him everything. First meeting Craig at school, to realising I had feelings for him that went beyond friendship, to me blurting out at Hannah's party that I love him. I told him about kissing Craig at the dance off and thinking, just for a second that he might have felt something too and all the way through, Spike just listened, his face impassive, nodding his head occasionally.

When I'm finished, he doesn't say anything and honestly, I wasn't expecting him to. He just smiles and stands up, pushing himself away.

"Okay then...phew, that was more baggage than I was expecting, no wonder your heads so screwed up you can't see how great I am" he says chuckling. Then his expression turns serious. "You're gonna be fine".

"I hope so". I glance up at Craig's window again, feeling guilty when I look away and spot Spike looking too. "Sorry". God, I've got to stop keep repeating that.

"Well, no harm done eh and don't flatter yourself, you aren't _that _great" he retorts smugly, throwing me a wink as he turns to leave. Something inside of me bursts with fondness for this man who's taken me under his wing this last couple of months and has helped me, not only to understand a little more about who I am but has also, ultimately, been a good friend to me when I needed one most. Despite everything, us breaking up, me still not being over Craig, I don't want him gone from my life. He means too much to me to just let him walk away.

"Spike...!" I call his name, getting to my feet and pulling him into a hug as he comes back over. "I don't want to..." I was going to say 'lose you' but that's not right as I don't want to give him the wrong impression and make things worse. "You've been really great to me...thanks" I say, choking up a bit when his arms engulf me harder. When he pulls away, he rests his hand lightly on my shoulder, the only contact between us as he smiles at me warmly.

"Listen, we can still be mates yeah?, it's probably just best to end things between us now while my heart _is _still intact, okay?" he says it jovially but there's that hint beneath the surface that maybe he's being more honest with me than he'd like to be.

"I _am_ sorry, I didn't even realise..." he waves it off, putting an end to my apology and that subject in general.

"Look John Paul, I'm a big boy" he says, grinning wickedly, his good humour fully restored. "_You _just didn't get to see that" he teases, making me genuinely smile, not just because of what he said but because I know that things are still going to be fine between us. He grins back, then his expression becomes more sober as he reaches out and takes my hand in his, squeezing lightly. "Seriously though, you guys need to get things sorted and if you ask me, he's not totally over you either".

"But he isn't..." Spike starts shaking his head before I'm even finished.

"I'm not saying he fancies you or thinks about you that way...though if you ask me..."

"He doesn't Spike" I cut in brusquely. I'm not going down this route again. No offence to Spike but he doesn't know Craig or his history or he wouldn't even be thinking these things, let alone saying them. He snorts rudely at me and rolls his eyes, clearly amused at something.

"I'd believe you but I saw his face when he caught us kissing earlier and I'm telling you, jealous doesn't even come close to describing it". I'm shaking my head in disagreement before he's even finished. I know Craig, I've seen him with Sarah and there's no way he'd be jealous of us kissing. Pissed off I was there...maybe, embarrassed he'd seen me, possibly, confused why I was there...probably but...jealous?

"I don't think so Spike" I say with certainty.

"Right, whatever..." wait a minute.

"Hang on, _when_ did Craig see us kiss?" I get that sense of foreboding I always get when something bad has, or is about to happen. I can't stop myself asking though because, from what I saw, he pretty much did a Houdini as soon as he saw me at the bar.

"Outside, when we first got here...look, who cares?" Uhm...me?, hello...I do! He ignores me, probably because I didn't actually say it aloud.

"What I'm saying is...you guys need each other" he says sincerely, nodding his head when my gaze flicks to his in surprise. "I'm not kidding. I've seen more emotion from you tonight than I have since I met you and...whether you believe me or not, Craig couldn't keep his eyes off you either...he misses you".

"Yeah right". He sighs and rolls his eyes, inclining his head at me to set off walking.

"Look, believe me or don't believe me, it's up to you just..."

"Hmm?"

"Don't forget to invite me to the wedding."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thank you for reading x<strong>_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Monday 14th May**_

_**Craig **_

_**Part Four**_

I take the steps two at a time as I hot foot it up to the flat, steaming through the living area and straight into my bedroom. Shutting the door haphazardly, I grab my iPod and throw myself down onto the bed, staring up to the ceiling as the music pierces through the earphones. I always turn it up full blast, hoping to block out the absolute mind fuck that I've had going on for God knows how long now. It never works though, I could stick on the loudest, heaviest rock tune that I have and John Paul will always be louder in my head. Then again I've not exactly got the most eclectic of musical tastes, Razorlight are just about the closest thing to heavy rock that I own. Yeah… exactly.

So it's not surprising that my mind starts to wander before the song even reaches it's first chorus. I knew as soon as my eyes connected with his not five minutes ago that I had to get out of there, away from his stare. Why was he even looking at me anyway? It's not as if he seems to give a fuck that we don't speak anymore, he obviously prefers to spend his time sucking face with Spike nowadays. And while we're at it, what sort of a name is Spike? I had a stuffed dog when I was a kid, he was called Spike n'all. My dad bought it for me when we were in Rhyl on a family holiday, I was probably about six at the time. I'd forgotten to take my teddy with me and there was absolutely no way that I'd be able to sleep without a teddy, so he went out to one of those cheap pound shops and brought it back to the caravan for me to cuddle. I loved that teddy, had it for years I did. I chucked it away last week.

I've come to the conclusion that I'm destined to be a loner forever. I was a loner before I met John Paul, and I'm a loner again now that I've lost him. Maybe that's why he doesn't seem to phased by the break-up of our friendship, because to him I was just another one of his friends, whereas to me he was the only friend I had… the only friend I wanted. It probably doesn't matter to him that we don't speak anymore because he has other friends to hang about with, other friends to laugh with, go to the cinema with. He's got a fucking boyfriend for Christ's sake, why the fuck would he care about having me as a friend either way? I mean I'm just me, a weirdo at the best of times and not exactly a great loss to his social life. I've even started to doubt whether he ever actually loved me like he said he did at Hannah's 18th, cos it didn't take him very fucking long to get over me, did it?

That thought alone has been tearing me up inside ever since he got himself a new squeeze, the thought that he probably doesn't have those feelings for me that he once said he did… that he's over me. What bloody good is that to me now? He realises I'm not all that great just as I decide to fall head over fucking heels - is it any wonder my brain is fried? And the worst thing is, I know that this is all my fault. I'm the one who made him see what sort of a person I am when I knocked seven bells out of him, made him realise that I was never worth all of the hassle that I brought him. Well he's well and truly shot of me now, and quite clearly he couldn't be happier about it - I bet his fat-headed boyfriend has never hit him like I did, I bet he's never called him vile names in front of people and embarrassed the fuck outta him. Then again if he was to ever harm a single hair on John Paul's body, I would murder the twat in a second. Yeah so maybe that kinda makes me the ultimate hypocrite, but I'd do it nonetheless.

I turn over onto my side and reach into my bedside draw, extracting one of the bottles that were left over from last night's session. It takes me just a few seconds to remove the lid (using the bottle opener that I have now taken hostage) before I'm lifting the bottle to my lips and taking the first few gulps of much-needed lager. It's gone warm while it's been sat up here, in fact it tastes like fucking shit, but I'm not drinking it to enjoy the stuff am I? I sit myself up more so that I can drink without soaking myself in the process, propping a few pillows behind and resting my head against the cold wall as I continue to down my beer. I can never seem to get it down my neck quick enough these days if I'm being honest, and I nearly always run out of supplies far too quickly. Darren and Jack have even started to lock the cellar door behind them whenever they use it, twats! They bloody know that I'd pay them if I was earning more cash, I don't even get paid for working behind the bar anymore to make up for all the stock I've nicked and yet they still lock the door? I don't care about the money anymore anyway, at one time I would have kicked up an absolute stink about not getting paid what I was owed - I used to use that money when me and John Paul went into town with each other - but I don't need it for that now, so I don't really need it full stop. Well apart from to buy booze with, but I live in a pub of all places - there are ways and means of getting around that little obstacle, locked doors or no bloody locked doors!

Draining the last few dregs from the first bottle, I make quick work of opening up a second and polishing off a third of it's contents. Thankfully I can already feel the alcohol starting to take effect on me. Everything is a bit softer around the edges now, but I'm gonna need a hell of a lot more of the stuff before I can wipe the image of John Paul playing tonsil tennis from my mind. Not that I want to remove that image from my mind, but I usually prefer to picture him doing it with me rather than some cheesy dick twat. In fact it's an image that's barely left my thought process recently, the excitement that jolts through my body is like nothing I've ever experienced before whenever I allow myself to imagine massaging my wet tongue with his. Fuck, just thinking about it now is causing my whole body to tingle with sheer want - well it's either that or the booze that's doing it, probably both.

It's those thoughts that consume me for the next half hour or so as I empty my second and third bottle, taking a sip out of the fourth as the iPod continues to burst my eardrums. I'm tormenting myself, I know I am, and if I could stop it then I would. But I've tried and failed countless times, I've learnt now that it's better to just go with the flow and see where they take me. Sometimes it ends with me getting myself so worked up that my trousers are around my thighs and I'm there wanking myself into oblivion. But then there are other times, times like now, where just the thought of John Paul sends a sharp pain shooting through my body as the realisation hits me for the millionth time that none of these fantasies I keep having will ever become reality. Not anymore they won't anyway, I well and truly made sure of that. That's probably the one thing that torments me more than anything else, knowing that I could have had all this with him a few months ago. He told me that he loved me, surely you don't say that to someone unless you can imagine going all the way with them? If I hadn't been so stupid back then, if I'd only realised sooner how strongly I felt about him, I could have had it all. But as it turns out I'm left with sod all as per usual, but instead of some girl trampling all over my heart, it's me that's fucked it all up. It's not all just about sex though, there's also the small matter of me being totally and utterly in love with him.

Argghhh! I feel like my whole fucking life is one great big broken record right now. I do the same thing every fucking night, I get pissed up and spend hours wallowing in my own self pity. I need to sort myself out once and for all, if John Paul can do it then so can I! I must look like such a bloody sad case as well, sitting here in this stuffy room with the curtains closed and surrounding myself with empty beer bottles, when did I become such a frigging loser? Actually… don't answer that. Fuck this, I've been doing this crap for far too fucking long. I pull myself off the bed - albeit rather unsteadily - and place the half empty Stella on my bedside drawers. I'm gonna jump in the shower, have a quick shave and down a couple of paracetamol, that should sort me out. First thing's first though, I need to get some air circulating in this place. I head over to the window and yank the curtains back, letting the daylight stream into my room for the first time in yonks.

And do you know what? I really wish I hadn't fucking bothered. I haven't even let go of the curtains when I see him, John Paul, stood outside on the patio with [i]_him_.[/i] It might not have been so bad if they were just stood there talking like any normal human beings would do, but no they have to be all over each other don't they? Look at 'em, cuddling each other close, hands all over each other. I swear if that twat's hand goes any fucking lower I will rip his saggy arm from it's socket! My anger doesn't last for long though, it soon gives way to gut-wrenching sadness as they hug each other closer without a care in the world. And it hurts, it really fucking hurts seeing John Paul so happy and… in love? They certainly look as if they are as they pull away from each other slightly, Spock rubbing his hand over John Paul's shoulder as they look into each others eyes. I don't move, I keep watching them as my breathing gets harsher, my face contorting slightly as I desperately try to stop my tears from falling. I feel as if my heart is finally breaking, it's taken this moment to realise that as much as I've always been a loner… I've never felt so alone in my life. I grip the curtains tightly as tear-drops snake their way down my cheeks, breathing shakily as I take one last look at them laughing and joking with each other. And then I close the curtains just as they take hold of each others hand, no doubt to walk off into the sunset for a night of love making and togetherness.

I don't know how long I stand here for, staring at the closed curtains as I sob silently to myself. I don't wipe the tears away, I need to feel them, I need to feel my sadness. I guess that's it then, right? There's no point in any of it anymore. The best friend I ever had has left my life as quick as he arrived, and all I've got left to show for it are the tears on my cheeks. I don't really know what to do now to be honest, all of a sudden my whole life has become alien to me, nothing is registering like it should. I turn around slowly to face my room, hands resting at my side as I realise how melodramatic this all is. But anyone who's ever felt sadness like this - and I can't imagine there's many out there considering it really doesn't get much worse - will know that the only thing you can do in these situations is to make yourself feel even worse, make yourself even more emotional by re-playing over and over again in your head the reasons why you're so upset in the first place.

So that's what I decide to do as I walk over to my desk and reach once more for this godforsaken diary that we've been asked to write. Another ridiculous decision from the school on our behalf, probably to psychoanalyse us all at the end of it. But right now I couldn't give a flying tit about anything else, if I'm gonna sit here feeling sorry for myself then I may as well do the job properly. With the bottle of Stella back in my hand, I pick out a random biro from the plastic wallet and write down everything that I'm feeling… everything that I'll never be able to speak to anybody about.

* * *

><p><em><strong>14th May 2007<strong>_  
><em><strong>Mondays suck!<strong>_

_**So today I finally saw them. I knew it would only be a matter of time before it happened but I don't think I was quite ready for any of it. Seeing them together, John Paul and SPIKE, has left me feeling like FUCKING SHIT. I saw them earlier outside, kissing each other, and I really didn't think the day could get much worse after that. But I was wrong, cos I've just seen them again and it was even worse than the first time. Hugging each other, holding hands & laughing - probably at me. And John Paul, he looked happy, really fucking happy, and while he's down there right now having fun I'm up here on my own writing bollocks and getting slowly pissed again.**_

_**It's not fair though that I have to be the one all miserable and alone again and he gets to move on as if I meant nothing to him. What happened to being in love with me? Yeah, that lasted all of five minutes. I already know that this is all down to me, I know that I hurt him in more ways than one, but he doesn't have to rub the PDA's in my fucking face does he? He's a twat!. I might be in love with him, but he's still a twat. He looked gorgeous today as well, it's the first time I've seen him properly in a while now and honestly, he looked so **__**good! I swear someone up there has got it in for me. It was like some sick joke being played on me when he came in showing me what I basically gave up.**_

_**I'd give anything to rewind these last few months, get my best mate back, cos I miss him so bloody much! And if I could go back, and he were to kiss me again, maybe this time I wouldn't pull away from him. In fact I know I wouldn't, because right now I would give anything to be downstairs kissing him instead of that PRICK! I am SO desperate to just kiss him, and I could fucking shoot myself now for not going for it when I had the chance. I've lost the only opportunity that I was ever likely to get, and now I've lost him for good.**_

_**I'll never get over him, I wish people would stop telling me to sort myself out because they haven't got a clue what it's like. I miss speaking to him, playing Fifa with him, sending him jokes. I've lost it all, I'm on my own again now. Suppose I'll have to get used to it. I really don't want to, but I haven't got a choice no more.**_  
><em><strong>Life sucks, it REALLY sucks! <strong>_

* * *

><p>When I'm done, I scribble a quick sad face at the bottom of the paper, pretty much summing up how I'm feeling. It's not until I put the pen down and look over what I've written that I notice the smudge marks on the page where my tears have fallen, distorting some of the words without me even realising it. I hate them, the water smudges, I hate what they symbolise. Maybe one day I'll find this diary at the back of an old drawer and laugh at how pathetic I sound… or maybe I'll never stop feeling like this.<p>

Pushing the diary away, I stand up and swallow what's left of the beer in my hand before heading back over to my bedside drawers and grabbing the last two bottles. I'll drink these then start on Jack's whiskey, I'll just top it back up with water afterwards - he'll never notice.

_**Thank you for reading x**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Monday 14th May**_

_**John Paul & Jacqui**_

_**Part Five**_

I say goodbye to Spike at the bus stop and amazingly, it's really easy, the awkwardness I was expecting to rear it's head keeping it's distance as we arranged to stay in touch and meet up for coffee on Wednesday. Then he gets on the bus and that's it. I no longer have a boyfriend to walk home with, it's just me and my thoughts and honestly, things couldn't be more confusing.

It doesn't take me long to get home, maybe five minutes, though I don't remember the actual walk as my head's too filled with the conversation I just had with Spike. Letting myself in the front door, I'm surprised to see the living room lamp on and my eldest sister Jacqui curled up on the couch with a steaming mug of tea, watching Lost on catch -up.

"Hiya Jacq...everyone else in bed?" My sister manages to tear her eyes away from the telly long enough to nod and gesture towards the kitchen.

"Merci's with Russ going over music for the wedding but everyone else is...kettle's just boiled" she says, her eyes once more fixed on the screen.

"Thanks". I lounge against the door frame and watch Sawyer getting dirtier and sweatier inside the cage, cursing at 'the others' as he tries to escape and I can't help laughing to myself, remembering snippets of a conversation me and Spike had that first day we met up after my sisters wedding. Something about him wanting to wash or have a shower after talking to Darren. Funniest thing though, we both thought he was cute and despite the many denials since to the contrary, I've seen him checking out Darren's arse on more than one occasion. I look at the fit bloke on the tv screen, now telling Kate to go back to her own cage, wondering how I ever could've likened him to Craig's step brother. God I must've been mental.

That conversation had led to a whole different one and we'd ended up sitting there for ages, discussing coming out and how difficult it was and talking about our families. Thinking back on it, I feel really shitty that I hadn't figured out what I wanted...or didn't want sooner. I just can't believe after everything that I'm lucky enough he still wants me as a mate because he was the one who made everything clearer for me in the first place and gave me the confidence to at least try and get over my feelings with Craig and start living.

"Oi, John Paul...I'll have another brew if you're making one". Jacqui's voice startles me, her manicured hand waving her union jack mug from over the back of the settee, distracting me from my thoughts.

"What did your last slave die of?" I ask, pushing away from the door anyway and take her empty mug from her.

"He's not dead, I've got him stashed in my wardrobe...keep him locked up with chains for when I need him" she cackles, giving me this really saucy, evil wink, something you never want to see your big sister do.

"Lovely" I reply, sarcasm dripping from my voice, "...lovely image Jacq, thank you" I roll my eyes at my dirty minded sister and head off into the kitchen to make the drinks and some toast, seeing as the adverts have come on. By the time it's ready, Sawyer's got his tongue down Kate's throat and is kissing her like his life depends on it which, considering the nature of the programme, it probably is.

"Ouch! Bloody hell John Paul, watch it".

"Sorry" I grimace sheepishly as I pass Jacqui her tea, careful not to accidentally spill any more down her. Then I sit on the settee, munching on one of the thick, heavily buttered slices of toast, my eyes fixed on the scene playing out on screen. It's not Sawyer and Kate I see there though. It's not even Sawyer and me...it's me and Craig. It shouldn't be but..._God_it's so easy to imagine kissing Craig like that, him pressed up against the bars, my fingers encircling his wrist, my groin grinding hard against his as he kisses me back as fiercely as I'm giving it.

I've tried not to let my mind wander there after all this time but after seeing him this evening, I can't stop it, the images that play out in my mind as clear as seeing him collecting those glasses had been.

"What's up with you?" Jacqui's voice cuts into my thoughts again, this time breaking me from an entirely different daydream to the last one.

"What? Nothing!" I deny vehemently. The only thing 'up' with me is my bloody dick which has a mind of it's own, thanks to the sexy image of Craig and me kissing that I just created.

"You...urgh...you aren't...oh John Paul, tell me you haven't still got a thing for Sawyer?" she says, scrunching up her nose, her gaze flicking between me and the telly.

"No! The tea's hot and I scolded my tongue, that's all...ow!" For some reason I feel the need to show her how exactly I burnt my tongue by actually taking a sip and doing exactly that.

"Ohh...riiight" she says knowingly, completely taking the piss. Fuck! I hate that I have pale skin and that she can see me blushing. Lucky for me the 'others' come roaring towards Sawyer on the tv and start getting slap happy, distracting Jacqui from me for the moment. I discreetly shift in the chair and reach for the cushion that's behind me, strategically placing it in my lap and resting my mug on top of it so she can't see exactly what kind of thoughts she's disturbed. Then I let my mind drift as I go back to thinking about Craig and ironically, what Spike said about him.

Is it possible that he misses having me in his life even half as much as I do him? If what Spike says is true then maybe there is a chance for us to get back to being mates after all, even if I don't stand much chance of us being best friends again. God that'd be brilliant. We'd be able to hang out all through the holidays and then I could visit him when he moves to Dublin, maybe spend some of the college breaks with him there. I know I'm getting ahead of the situation but it's something we talked about late into the night many times and I don't want to suppress that little ray of optimism that's found it's way inside me since talking to Spike.

I wish he hadn't spouted all that nonsense about Craig not 'being over me' and him being jealous though because now I have to shove away those excited butterflies in my stomach that are going crazy at the thought of it all being true. I mean, it _would _be great if Craig was jealous at seeing me spending time with Spike and it made him want to be mates again and it'd be even better if he did regret us falling out as friends in the first place but I'm not going to get my hopes up until I get some evidence to support that or see it for myself.

As for the other stuff...Spike hinting that Craig might...

No! I put a stop to that train of thought before it can even get off the tracks and manifest itself into something more tangible because believing, even for a second, that Craig could want me as anything more than a mate is just...it's ludicrous and the kind of thought that will have to remain a fantasy. Really, it's for the best because if I let myself start believing any of that bullshit, then I just know I'll start reading into things that aren't there and I could end up with another situation like at Hannah's party or the school dance off where I made a complete ass of myself. No way, not going to happen again, not in this lifetime.

Still, it does make me wonder what it was that Spike saw in Craig that had him thinking and saying those things in the first place.

"So are you going to tell me what's bugging you or do I have to sit here and watch you stewing all night?"

"Huh...what?" I frown at Jacqui, continuing to nibble at my thumb nail until she reaches over and yanks it away from my mouth, sighing in annoyance. "Ow, what did you do that for?" I ask, blowing on it.

"You've got a face like a slapped arse and there're three half naked, sweaty blokes on the telly" she points put, waving towards the tv screen. In reply, I shrug my shoulders and hold my hands out in a gesture of ambivalence, quirking my brow at her, anything to distract from her original question.

"So?"

"So? John Paul, you hardly looked at it once since you walked through the door...what's up little bruv?" I start to feel a little guilty, wondering exactly what it is she can see on my face that seems to have my tough as old boots eldest sister so concerned.

"Nothing" I pull my face at her name calling, then change it, not wanting her saying anything else about what I look like. Then my gaze goes to the screen to see the three men she's talking about, Sayid, Jack and the bloke that should be in the wheelchair, all running around the island looking...well, lost.

"Is it 'cos Sawyer isn't on?" she asks like she's talking to a two year old, making this over the top pouty face. "What about him?" she asks, nodding at the action on screen. "He's _just_your type" she says lewdly.

"Sayid? Totally _not _my type" I say shrugging, as though that explains why I'm not watching. She snorts and rolls her eyes.

"Please John Paul, he's fit and he's a bloke, of course he's your type" she says dismissively.

"He's not Cr..." I stop myself just in time, clearing my throat as I look away. "He's just not the type of bloke I go for, that's all" I say, taking another bite of the now cold toast to stop her questioning me further.

Craig is though. He's not _just _my type, he's the prototype, the one that every other man who comes into my life will have to live up to and that thought makes me sad. Is this what I have to look forward to then? Meeting a guy and comparing him to Craig?, then breaking up with him because he doesn't even come close and _then _repeating the cycle all over again? If it is, I don't stand a chance of ever being completely fulfilled and happy do I because...well, I've already found true love, _it _just hasn't found me.

Unrequited love eh? It's the pits.

"Why's that then? Because he's not gay or because he's not got any tattoo's like _your _fella?" she says saucily, making me cringe. I almost blurt out that him not being gay is _just _my type but then that's not entirely true is it. I haven't fallen for Craig because he's straight, I've just fallen for him period.

"John Paul?" I turn my head to see Jacqui looking at me, her eyebrow arched in query as her gaze flicks between the argument on screen to me. I finish the last of the tea, right down to the sweet bit at the bottom of the mug and then turn to Jacqui, sighing when I see she's not just going to let me walk away from this without and explanation.

"He's not _my _fella any more Jacq, me...me and Spike broke up" I tell her bluntly, keeping my face impassive.

"Oh no! What happened?" She immediately voices concern, turning the volume down with the tv remote before getting up from the armchair and coming over to sit beside me, bring her drink with her. Now I know I'm in for a grilling. Edging farther over until I'm practically squashed against the arm of the settee, I shrug, telling her it's not big deal.

"No big deal? How can you say that?" I shake my head, shrugging.

"Jacq, it's fine honestly" I assure her. She doesn't believe me though, I can tell because her mouth turns down in sadness and she reaches over, letting her fingers run through my hair, her act of sisterly affection surprising me.

"No it's not...he was your first love John Paul, you'll never forget that" she says softly, or at least, not as abrasively as she usually sounds. She's right of course, I never will forget my first love. It's not Spike though, is it? "Besides" she continues, "I saw the look in your eye the other day when you were reading through that book with him so, believe me, I _know _you must be hurting." I nod my head, smiling, remembering the day she was talking about. I'd planned to have sex with Spike for the first time that night and he'd come around under the premise of helping me study but because mum and Jacqui still hadn't gone out, we'd actually ended up doing just that for a couple of hours first.

The whole time he'd been reading Cesario's role to my Duke Orsino, I'd been imagining he was Craig, replacing Spike's slightly cheeky voice with the memory of Craig's deeper, more serious tone, my mind drifting back a few months to January when we'd been given Twelfth Night to analyse as part of our required reading list and I'd stayed over at his to study it.

God what a night that'd been. One of the best but at the same time hardest nights spent in his company and yeah, I do mean that both metaphorically and physically. I'd already spent the entire day lusting after Craig as I watched him and Sarah making up...or maybe making out is a better way of putting, the pair of them having spent half the week bickering because Craig was cranky from having his nephew in the flat. Anyway, as we'd been walking home from school that Friday afternoon, trying to decide whether it was worth going to the cinema or not, Craig'd invited me round to his house, supposedly to do homework and read the play but really it was so he could challenge me to the new X-Box game he'd bought part ex at the beginning of the week. Sarah already had plans with Hannah, so I knew she wouldn't be around and Craig's mum and Jake were going to be off visiting someone with Craig's nephew Charlie so it'd been a perfect opportunity for me to spend some quality time with him, just the two of us.

Of course I'd made excuses to go home first so I could give myself a mini pep talk not to nearly kiss him like I had on our night out at The Loft, plus it gave me enough time to have a quick shower and change into something a little less casual than what I'd worn for school. By the time I got to his, I was filled with this nervous, excited feeling that only intensified as the night went on. It'd been a top night overall and by the time we got around to opening the book we'd both been pretty drunk but that hadn't stopped us reading bits of the play to each other, mocking the performances half of the time, taking them deadly serious the rest. I swear, when I'd been reading Orsino's 'If music be the food of love' passage, I'd felt the intensity in Craig's eyes as he'd watched me, the dark, warmth of his gaze boring into me as though I was seducing him with the words.

Then, when we swapped roles and he started reciting one of the intimate moments from the play, reaching out towards me with his hand as he dramatically stood up and spoke the Duke's fascination with 'Cesarios' lips, I almost had a heart attack. I swear, if he'd actually touched my mouth at that point, I don't think I would've been able to stop myself from taking hold of him, pinning him to the bed, kissing the life out of him and in the process, making a complete tit of myself.

So you can understand why I'd probably been looking at Spike kind of dreamily the night that Jacqui's now talking about. Speaking of which...

"I'll be fine Jacq, honestly. Me and Spike we're..." God it's hard finding the right words to explain what we are without saying why. "We just weren't meant to be, okay? I liked him and we're gonna stay mates but that's it, it's for the best" I say, getting to my feet, effectively putting an end to the conversation. I reach out to collect her empty cup, my eyes flying to hers in surprise when she locks her fingers around my wrist, holding me in place.

"You need someone to talk to John Paul, you can't just bottle your feelings up inside" she says in earnest, her eyes filled with worry.

"I have someone to talk to" I answer quickly, though I don't elaborate that the 'someone' isn't actually a person. She arches her eyebrow and shakes her head disbelievingly, her expression turning to one of sympathy.

"Please Little Bro, if you and the boy wonder were still friends I might've believed you, you used to be joined at the hip but now..." she smiles sadly at me, her thumb stroking across the back of my hand in maybe the single most surprising gesture of affection I've ever received from her.

"What about our Tina? She'd be able to help ya or...I don't know, maybe Carmel" I snort at that one, attempting to pull myself from her grasp. Christ no. If I told Carmel, the whole bloody village would know.

"Look, I don't need to talk to either of em, alright? I can handle this on my own" I tell her bluntly, wrenching my wrist away from her but being more gentle as I remove the cup from her other hand.

"Listen Jacq, I appreciate all this, I do but..._really_, I can handle things on my own" I say putting an end to the discussion, smiling so she knows I do appreciate her trying to help, even if it isn't wanted. I head into the kitchen and put the mugs on the side and then make my way back through the lounge to the stairs, turning as I'm about to take the first step.

"Do me a favour?" Jacqui looks over at me just as she's about to un-mute the tv, looking at me expectantly.

"Don't tell the others yet? About me and Spike". She looks at me over the back of the settee and nods her head, making it so I'm unable to resist going over there and wrapping my arms around her neck. "I just need a bit of time alone yeah?...I'll be fine" I finish by assuring her, giving her a quick kiss on her head and ducking beneath her arm as she takes a swipe at me, laughing as I bound up the stairs.

_**Thank you for reading x**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**PART SIX**_

**_Monday 14th May_**

**_Darren_**

"Come on ladies, drink up. Some of us have got beds to get to."

I walk over to Little and Large, a couple of lasses that have spent the night trying to get laid. Well I say lasses, in all honesty these two are borderline feline. In fact if I didn't know better I'd swear they were blokes in drag, but that theory was soon put to bed when 'Large' performed her Basic Instinct routine… lets just say it was less Sharon Stone and more Shallow Hal. Thank God she closed her legs again, I don't want the place stinking of salmon.

"Oooh, is that an offer?" Holy crap! How did I not notice those gnashers? This sultry voice she's putting on is never gonna impress me when she's got caterpillars crawling out of her gob. "And what's your bed like, big boy?"

"Wh…what?"

"This bed of yours, big enough for three?" And with that she lifts her dress higher and begins to stroke her hand (or should I say paw) up and down her leg, her lips pursing together as she moans lightly. Her friend 'Little' is being decidedly quiet at this point, not that she was being all that quiet when she was thrusting herself up Leo Valentine's leg like a Jack Russell on heat earlier this eve.

"Yes, it is big enough for three if you must know."

"Oh reeeeeeally? Oooo well in that cas…"

"But considering the size of three people would be the equivalent of your left arse cheek, I'd say you don't have a chance in hell love. Now come on, haven't you got a fridge to go home to."

"You what? You cheeky fucking…"

"CAKE MAN!"

"WHAT? WHERE?"

"Over there, quick! His vans just riding past outside, and there's gateaux as well!" Well, okay so it's not a cake man if the 'Smith & Son's Plumbing' logo is anything to go by, but Free Willy over here doesn't know that… yet.

"Quick Melody, grab your purse!" She rises up like a submarine and flings her handbag over her shoulder, licking her lips as she waddles towards the exit as fast as she can. "And don't forget that half a bag of Pork Crunch, Melody! I want them for after me cake."

"And chocolate fingers, he has chocolate fingers! And Trifle!" I shout after her as she lunges at the door, almost pulling it from it's hinges. I stand here chuckling to myself as I turn back towards 'Little'. She's not looking too impressed though I must say. "What?"

"Think that was funny did you? Making fun of someones weight?" She folds her arms, her face set like stone as she waits for me to reply. I vaguely hear the distant cries of 'STOP! WAIT FOR ME!' from outside as 'Large' runs off in hot pursuit of poor old Mr Smith.

"Sorry, maybe it was a bit out of order."

"Damn right it was! And if you think we're drinking in here again then you can fucking think on!" Grabbing the Pork Crunch, she flounces out after her mate - pfft, as if either of them stood a chance of getting the Darren Osborne experience anyway.

I lock up and survey the damage, empty classes and crisp wrappers are all waiting to be cleared up but I'm too knackered to sort them out tonight. I'll wait for Freda in the morning, it's about time she started earning her wages anyway, she's a lazy cow that one. I'm just putting the till away when I hear a loud thump from upstairs, a noise I've heard more than once recently - usually just as I'm about to drop off to sleep. I know exactly what it is, my bloody step-brother has taken to hitting the bottle lately and it nearly always results in him flat out on the floor. Sometimes I'll leave him there if he's pissed me off, like the other night when I was chatting up some blond piece that had walked in and Craig came down in search of more booze. He'd proceeded to tell the hottie all about the crabs I'd caught the previous year, his voice was so frigging loud he practically told the whole pub! I'd found him upstairs later, half on the couch and half sprawled across the floor - he bloody well stayed there n'all.

Daft sod, I wish he'd tell someone what's wrong with him - not that it takes a genius to work out seeing as all this started when he had that falling out with Mr Queenie McQueen. He's over-reacting if you ask me, constantly stealing lager from the cellar and sporting a face that could turn milk sour. If he was that bothered then he'd go and sort it out for himself instead of cluttering this place up, either that or get himself a new girlfriend. Although to be fair this is Craig we're talking about, he's not exactly been blessed with the same killer skills as I have when it comes to wooing the ladies.

I lock the cash and fags away and switch the lights off, time to go and see what state the idiot's got himself into this time.

I get up to the flat and on first glance everything seems normal. The sink is full of dirty dishes (mostly mine, admittedly), the lights are all off and it all sounds pretty quiet - until I walk into the living room, that is. I'm not surprised to find Craig sprawled out on the sofa again, half empty bottle of Stella clutched to his chest as he lies there in just his t-shirt and boxers. There's a fair few empty bottles littering the room, and I'd say judging by the tumbler on the table that he's been at dad's whiskey again. Twenty-five years he's had that bottle of vintage, and within a week Craig's managed to drain most of it down his throat. I'm sure he thinks people aren't going to notice if he keeps topping it back up with water, there's barely a dribble of whiskey in there now and he still keeps necking the stuff back. Stick an Evian label on the front and you'd never know the bloody difference.

"Craig, mate wake up." I shake him hard, I've not got the patience to bring him back gently from his slumber considering the amount of times he's had me out of bed lately. He still doesn't stir though, even after a few more violent shakes he's not budging, so I revert to plan B. Grabbing hold of his free hand, I give it a good tug and yank him off the couch, watching on in amusement as he covers himself in lager before landing with his face under the coffee table, his arse now hanging precariously off the side of the sofa.

"Urhh, what happened? Where… where am I?"

I laugh lightly to myself as I hear him mumbling and groaning under the table, his scrawny legs failing him as he tries to sit up.

"Where am I… is anybody not there? I've… I've lost my beer… my, my beer is… gone. H… hello?"

And then the inevitable happens, he pulls himself up not realising where he is, and…

*THUMP*

"Arggh, what the fuck! Ow, what's happening to me? Ow!" Bahahaha, what a knob. I decide to do the decent thing for once and push the table from over him so that he can see what he's doing.

"Come here, give us your hand."

"Darren, is that… Darren? Darren I need your help, something's happening Darren and I don't know what. Everything's gone blue Darren, it's all blue!" Christ, he's in the land of the frigging Smurfs tonight. Still, it's an improvement on the tea and cake he was enjoying with Rosie and Jim a few nights back. I pull him up and push him back on to the couch so that he's sitting upright, then watch as he lifts the now empty bottle to his lips and knocks his head back, trying in vain to get some beer out of it.

"Craig give that here, there's none left."

"Nooooooooo!" He holds on to the bottle for dear life as I try to prise it from his hand, but quickly gives it up when I remind him once again that he's emptied it. I watch him as he rests his head against the back of the chair, looking like death warmed up as he stares at the ceiling.

"Craig, what's going on mate?"

"Nuffin."

"So why are you up here getting pissed again?"

"I'm not pissed."

"Yeah, and I'm not God's gift to women. Come on, what's happened this time?"

"Nothing has happened" he says in his best 'I'm not pissed' voice. "I just fancied a little drink, that's all."

"Right, well if your not gonna tell me then I'll just guess shall I?"

"I need a drink."

"Does this have anything to do with George Michael from down the road?"

"Morge Gichael? Why would I be upset about 'im?"

"Aha! So you admit your upset about something then?" I bloody knew it! He turns his head to look at me, his eyes widening slightly as he realises what he's just said.

"No. N… no I'm… am fine. Look back off will you, it's just a drink. I am old enough you know."

"Well start acting like it then! If you won't tell me what's wrong then I can't help you."

"I don't neeeed your help, what I neeeed is a drink. Any chances?"

"You are joking? You've already cleared us out of the Stella, what you gonna start on next? The Carling? Or how about the Fosters?"

"Fosters? Did you just say F… Fosters?"

"Err, yeah, duh! And I'm telling you now if you even think abou…"

"She sucks off Lobsters" he mumbles, cutting me off as he goes back to staring up at the ceiling. Did I just hear him correctly?

"What did you just say?"

"_He _ordered Fosters."

Eh? Who the hell is he chattin' about now? "Craig, you are making zero sense… who ordered Fosters?"

"John Pa…err, Paalllastiniooo. Err, yeah it was… was John Paalllastiniooo. He ordered Fosters. I was just saying."

"Who the hell is John Palestinian?" It's like trying to draw blood from a stone, I am so glad I'm not gonna have his head tomorrow morning! "Actually, forget it, I don't think I wanna know. So as I was saying, is this something to do with John Paul again?" I already know that it is of course, it couldn't be anymore obvious, but I humour him nonetheless.

He doesn't answer me straight away, just keeps looking into space. I'm not sure if he's even heard me, either that or he's simply avoiding my question altogether - something else he's gotten good at lately.

"He hates me." His voice is so low, I have to strain my ears just to hear his whisper, but I know exactly what he's just said and who he is referring to. I lower my voice to his level as I reply.

"John Paul?"

"Yeah."

"Why does he hate you?"

He shakes his head but doesn't speak, his eyes watering as he looks away from me.

"Craig, talk to me."

"I can't" he answers after a while, reaching his hand up to harshly wipe at his eyes before any tears have actually fallen.

"Why not?" I place my hand on to his shoulder somewhat awkwardly, patting him a few times before removing it again. I wasn't really expecting this, seeing him get genuinely upset about it all. I've seen him get angry over the last few months, he's always got a cob on him, and God knows I've seen him pissed out of his brain more times than I bothered to count, but upset? "I know I'm probably not your ideal choice n'all that, I'm not exactly known for my sparkling sensitivity, but you can talk to me about stuff."

"I don't… I just…" His voice cracks slightly as he continues to face away from me, holding the flat of his hands to his eyes. I keep quite for a few minutes as I wait for him to continue, I think this is the closest anyone's got to getting him to open up over the last few months, if I say something now I'll probably bring him to his senses and he'll clam up again like he usually does.

But as it turns out, he clams up anyway without any help from me whatsoever. His breathing returns to normal as he removes his hands from his face, plastering the falsest 'I'm fine' expression on his face that I've ever seen. I already know what comes next…

"You know what, I'm fine." Just like clockwork, the idiot begins his backtracking. "No really, I'm fine."

"Craig, your not fi…"

"No really, I am." He turns to look at me, smiling as if to prove his point that there is _absolutely nothing wrong _with him. "I've just had too much to drink is all, I should get to bed, sleep it off."

"Yeah, yeah alright mate, maybe you're right." I give in, there's no point pushing him now, I've tried before and it's got me nowhere. He pulls himself up unsteadily, standing still for a moment to get his balance before stumbling his way towards the bedroom.

"You're not gonna throw up everywhere are ya? Cos if you are then you can take a bowl with you, I'm not having this place smelling of cold sick. I've already got downstairs stinking like a bloody fish market."

"Eh?" He turns to look at me as he reaches the hallway, holding on to the wall for some much needed support.

"Fish, stinks of the stuff downstairs. Basically there was this fat lass…"

"_Darren_."

"…and I'm not kidding you Craig, she wreaked of sweaty salmon paste."

"_Darren, stop_."

"Anyway I told her there was a cake man outside to get rid of her, haha. I said to her I said 'He's got trifle, chocolate fingers…"

"_Darren I feel si_…"

"…gateaux, whipped cream. Fell for it hook line and sinker she did, and she'd already eaten her way through three bags of Pork Crunch by then aswe…"

"_BLEEEEUUUUURRRGGGHH_"

"Urh Craig! Oh fuck that smells, oh God it stinks!" Well that shut me up, he's just projectile vomited all over the living room floor.

"I don't feel very well."

"I just told ya to get a bowl, for fucks sake Craig! Why do you get yourself into these bloody states, eh? You come downstairs, drink us out of a business and make a complete wreck of the flat, and it's me that's having to clean up after you!"

"Sorry."

"And then tomorrow you'll wake up, shrug your shoulders and do the whole thing all over again." He's pissed me off again now, he's stood there feeling sorry for himself, out of his stupid brain, and it's everyone else that's having to deal with his shit seeing as he won't admit what's wrong!

"I said I'm sorry alright."

"It's not good enough anymore mate, either tell someone what's up or sort yourself out, people are starting to lose patience with you now."

"It's no-one else's bloody business!

"Well I'm making it my business, right?"

"Whatever, just leave me alone, I'm going to bed." He turns to walk out of the room, leaving behind his stench for me to clean up.

"I am going to get to the bottom of it Craig, whether you like it or not!" I shout after him just before I hear his door close behind him - he's done for the night.

He's a total idiot, he had the perfect chance to tell someone how he's feeling and he goes and does _that_instead. And on top of all that he's left a nice present for me to clean up, he is SO having it tomorrow! He should be grateful, how often is it that you see me being all kind and considerate like that?

One of the voices inside my head, the Jamaican one (yes, they have accents…and?), is telling me to sod him and go back to trying my chances with the ladies. You never know, tomorrow could be the day I finally meet the lust of my life! But it's gone on long enough now, he was even more pissed tonight than he has been recently, I just wish I knew why he was so cut up about things. It's only a McQueen for God's sake, if it was one of the sisters then I'd understand - that Mercedes is bang tidy - but John Paul? The mind baffles, really it does. One thing I know for certain though, he's not getting away with this crap anymore. If the little shit ain't gonna tell me what's bothering him then I'll just have to find it out for myself. I need to put a plan together, straight after I've cleared away this sick, then tomorrow I shall put said plan into action. Detective Osborne is on the case, well and frigging truly!

First thing's first though, where the hell does Frankie keep her Febreeze?

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thank you for reading x<strong>_


	7. Chapter 7

**Gah! So sorry, forgot to post this the other day. Here's another chapter written by Jon.**

**We're now on Day 2.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>PART SEVEN<strong>_

**_Tuesday 15th May_**

**_Craig_**

I'm dead… I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I've died I'm dead.

Or is that just wishful thinking? Wait, of course it is. I'd never be lucky enough to escape the living hell that is my life that easily. I'm not opening my eyes though, I daren't. My mouth is drier than a nun's tit, my whole body is vibrating in the worst possible way and if none of that bollocks was enough, I can feel a nice vomit breakfast brewing.

Urghh, this is all reminding me of that song. You know, the one about waking up after the night before and not having a clue what happened. Except in the song she wakes up and there's a stranger in her bed, and there's definitely not one in mine. I'm pretty sure she remembers having a threesome as well, and I'm damn sure that never happened to me last night. I'd happily have a twosome though, with Joh… actually, lets not go there yet. It's too early. So in this song, they all go out, get trashed, dance on tables and break the law, then bugger off for a bit of skinny dipping. Nope, none of that happened neither, although I can totally relate to the 'pounding head' part, cos mine is fucking throbbing. Damn you Stella, DAMN YOU!

I let out a solitary groan…

"Urghhhhhh."

…feeling totally sorry for myself. It's not as if it's my fault that I'm in this state anyway, is it? It's John Paul's fault for snogging his stupid fat-headed… no, _NO_, it's still too bloody early in the morning to think about all that. What time is it anyway? I'm gonna have to open my eyes for this bit, aren't I? Damn it! I move my face to the side so that I'm facing my bedside drawers, keeping my eyes firmly shut for as long as I possibly can as I reach out for my alarm clock and…

"OWW! You fucking absolute twat of a tit! Ouch, arghh!" So I didn't quite reach the alarm clock, I ended up thumping the God damn wall instead. How the hell did the wall swap sides during the night? Did it hop over my bloody bed and plonk it's arse down in front of me?

Oh my god, wait! If the wall is now on that side of my bed, does that mean that I'm now outdoors? Fuck, what if everyone can see my arse? Shit, now I really am gonna have to move, I can't have John Paul coming here and seeing me sleeping on the roof, he'll think I've gone crazy! Right, take it slowly Craig, sit yourself up gently, nice and steady, your not gonna throw up… there we go. Now, swerve your legs around and see if you can get a grip of the slate tiles, you don't wanna slip, do you? That's it, lower your feet, find the tiles and… Christ these tiles have gone soft. How the hell are these frigging things supposed to keep the rain out? I must remember to tell Darren about this when I've climbed down, otherwise he'll have the shock of his life when there's a downpour. They aren't slanted either, since when has the pub had a flat roof? Oh this is just too confusing this is, I mean as stupid as it sounds, it actually feels as though my feet are touching… "Carpet!"

I fling my eyes open, taking a few seconds to adjust to the dull English daylight before realising that I am, in fact, still in my room. Well thank fuck for that! I must have slept back to front on the bed, phew! That could have been embarrassing. I take the opportunity to check the time, 10am, which if I'm honest may as well be middle of the night for me if the last month or three have been anything to go by. I look around the dump that I call my bedroom, random clothes lying about the floor, empty bottles and screwed up notepaper littering my desk, my diary lying open and abandoned, and... oh no, I did it again didn't I?

I stand up cautiously, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I take a moment to get my balance. 'Stig of the Dump' springs to mind as I take in my dishevelled bed hair and rough stubble, my eyes widening as I notice the huge yellow patch that covers the front of my white boxers. No, no I couldn't have, surely not... or have I? Wasting no time at all I quickly shove them down my legs, leaving myself completely naked as I eye the stained underwear. Very slowly I lift them towards my face, giving them the quickest of quick sniffs as relief fills my body... it's beer, thank Christ!

I dump the boxers and fetch the diary, really not wanting to see what I've wrote again but at the same time not being able to stop myself. Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, I start to read, cringing at myself before I've even finished the first line. Why do I always do this to myself? Gah! I don't exactly get very far down the page though before my _wonderful_ stepbrother comes barging in unannounced, panic consuming my body as I hastily shove the diary under my pillow before he sees what it is.

"Do you ever think to bloody knock? This is _my_ room, you can't just waltz in here when you feel like it you know!"

"Well I didn't know you were having Tommy Tank did I? I was only checking to see if you were still alive."

"What! I wasn't having a wank!" What the fuck gave him that idea? I've only just woke up.

"Oh come off it Craig, you've not got a stitch of clothing on mate." FUCK! I forgot about that. I quickly pull my knees up in front of me, suddenly feeling very self conscious as I attempt to cup my dick and balls from his view as best I can. "And I totally just saw you shoving that porno mag under your pillow. Busted mate, well and truly!" He's barking up the wrong tree here big time, but then if I tell him the truth he's going to wanna know what's really under my pillow and to be honest, I'm happy to let him think I was playing with myself rather than have him see my diary. "But hey, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, so I'll leave you to it."

"Err, yeah, yeah your right, that _is_ what I was doing. You got me!" Ok, did that sound convincing enough do you think?

He's still grinning to himself as he turns to leave, but doesn't quite make it through the door before he's facing me again. "Oh yeah, and get your arse out here quick as you can yeah?" He's suddenly turned all serious on me, wonder what that's all about? "I want a word with you about last night." Oh, it's about _that_. Bugger it.

When I'm finally alone again, I quickly find myself the only clean pair of boxers I've got left and pull them on. Maybe I shouldn't have got up off the bed so fast though, seeing as the sickly feeling I woke up with has now returned with a vengeance - along with the sharp pounding in my head. I wonder if I'll make it to the bathroom this time?

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><p><em><strong>DARREN<strong>_

I'm breathless and sweating, my knees burn against the carpet as my body rocks back and forth. "Oh fuck!" This is too much, this is too much, I'm gonna explode everywhere in a minute! I keep going though, my thrusts unrelenting as I screw my face up, trying desperately to hold back the inevitable release. "Shit, oh shit!" My pace quickens, thrusting uncontrollably until I can't take it anymore. Then just as I'm on the edge, pushing myself to the point of no return, I quickly jump up and rush to the sink… and proceed to hurl my guts up!

"Fucking hell Craig, you absolute twat!" I say to myself as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Ten frigging minutes I've been scrubbing at that carpet, trying to remove all traces of the sick that he left behind last night. The smell was so strong and I tried to hold back as long as I could, but there's only so much heaving your body can take before you end up with your head stuck in a bowl emptying the contents of your stomach into it. He's a dick, and I still can't find Frankie's frigging Febreeze!

Walking back over to the crime scene, I mop up the last of the foam with a tea towel before chucking it straight in the bin - something tells me we ain't gonna be drying no dishes with that anytime soon. Figuring I've got as much of it up as I can, I head to my room and grab a can of my exquisite Deluxe Leopard deodorant off the side to spray instead, and I literally soak the carpet in the stuff. I've got the place smelling like The Perfume Shop, but it's a damn sight better than the smell I woke up to this morning. Three quid this stuff cost me an'all, and I don't expect I'll get any thanks for it from that fanny in there.

Speaking of which…

"Oh here he is, about time too. Come to mop up your little art exhibition have you, eh?" I raise my voice slightly, knowing full well the havoc it'll be causing his head. I watch him visibly wince in front of me as he practically crawls towards the settee in nowt but his boxers - I'm starting to think he's ran out of clean trousers and can't be arsed to wash them. That'll be something else that I'll end up doing for him no doubt. God I can't wait for Frankie to get back so she can take over again! He slumps himself down and curls up, looking at me pitifully.

"Darren, please will you just keep it down. I'm not well, just… just stop shouting, yeah?"

"Shouting? You think that was shouting? Oh no, that weren't shouting mate… THIS IS BLOODY SHOUTING!" I think I just gave him a mini heart attack judging by the way he's now clinging on to the arm of the chair for dear life, having very nearly fallen off it… again. "What's up Craig? Sore head?"

"Yes, actually!" He sits himself up, glaring at me as he huffs. "Really bloody sore! So quit with the sarcasm already, I'm not in the mood!"

"So you remember whacking your pretty little head off the coffee table then?" Confusion passes across his face as he looks at the offending table, trying to piece together the unmade jigsaw puzzle of last night. "I'll take that as a no then. How about painting the carpet?"

"What?"

"Sick, Craig, all over the fucking floor again!"

"Oh, yeah… err, sorry about that." He leans his head back as his eyes close, trying to put an end to the conversation probably. I don't bloody think so!

"Sorry for what? You're not sorry Craig, cos if you were you wouldn't keep doing it!" The tosser's just ignoring me now. Maybe now would be a good time to bring up our little chat about John Paul last night, but I stop myself before I even start. There's no point going down that route while he's like this, if anything it'll just confuse the hell out of him even more and then where would I be? If I'm gonna find out more about this then I'll have to wait until he's recovered a bit, at least he won't be able to run away from me when he realises he's already said too much… sort of. "Do you even remember anything that happened yesterday?" Again he stays silent, but I do see his eyes open briefly as he swallows hard, looking over at me for a second, contemplating whether or not to say anything, me silently hoping that he does. But of course, he doesn't, he just shakes his head at me, uttering a quick 'no' for good measure.

"Fine, whatever." I give up… for now at least. "I'll leave you to wallow up here for a bit then, shall I? I'd best go and check on Freda anyway, make sure she's not got her grubby hands on my nuts again." I head over to the door, but turn back to him just as I'm about to walk through it. "I want you down there at 12 on the dot Craig, no excuses this time, right?" This silent treatment is becoming so, so boring! "Craig, did you hear me?"

"Yes" he mumbles.

"So I'll see you down there at 12 then? And you'd best grab a shower as well, you smell like one of Freda's farts… no offence."

"Yeah, ok." I don't think he's even listening to a word I'm saying now, I at least expected a 'fuck you' for the fart comment. God help me!

So I leave him to it, opening up the bar and hoping to Christ that the smell of salmon has gone. That's the last thing I need after the morning I've had, and there is no way in hell that I am using up anymore of my Deluxe Leopard. Thankfully it's all clear though, so clear in fact than I can't even see my frigging cleaner that should have been here half hour back. Jesus, do I have to do everything around here? I am SO sacking her fat lardy arse when she decides to turn up next, I can't be doing with her wasting my time and money anymore. Besides, Myra McQueen was in here not last week looking for a cleaning job. 'I'll do anything me, bogs, bins, the lot. I'd want a decent wage though, I'm not getting muck in me nails for naff all!" That's what she'd said to me, hardly the greatest of first impression is it? But anything's gotta be better than what I've got now. Oooh, maybe she'll know something about the on going Craig / John Paul saga! Well that's it then, Freda's definitely a gonner now. I'll call Myra later, tell her she's in.

I spend the next half hour cleaning the bar up, my brief uplift in mood slowly deteriorating with every empty crisp packet and pint glass I pick up. By half eleven I've finally got things ship shape, I can enjoy a nice hot cuppa now before Leo Valentine starts banging me door down. I watch as the kettle boils, taking out a couple of custard creams for a nice bit of dunking before I pull up a stool and breathe a sigh of relief. Oh that's nice, I've not stopped all morning, so this is like heaven. Heaven, that is, until my peace is disturbed just as the cup's rim touches my lips.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me, who the hell is _that_ now?" I shout, fully expecting Leo to start his usual routine of 'open up, I'm gagging out here'. What I don't expect to hear is the Irish lilt of Kris, I thought his shift was tonight? I put my tea back down, hoping to God I can get rid of him before it goes cold. I'm looking forward to them Custard Creams!

"What do you want?" Ok, I know I'm being a bit of a prick, but this morning is fast becoming a great big joke at my expense.

"Well hello to you too gorgeous, get up on the wrong side of your boudoir this morning?" He chuckles as he passes through, standing in front of me as I keep a hold of the door - he's not going to be staying long.

"You're not due in till seven, what you doing here?" And then I see it, the look that passes over his face that tells me I'm not at all going to enjoy hearing what he's here to say. Fuck it!

"Ahh, yeah, about that…"

"Oh no, no you don't. Your not doing this to me, not today of all days. You can sodding sod off!"

"But I've got a hot date!"

"I couldn't give two monkey's shites if you're on a hot date or burying your dead dog! I'm short staffed, I need you here tonight!" He's taking the absolute piss, talk about short notice.

"But he's fit!" As if I care? "And according to Nancy he has got the biggest…"

"STOP! Stop… right there. I don't wanna know."

"So you'll let me have it off then?" Well he can wipe that grin off his face for starters!

"No I said. Look, if you had asked me last week, last night even, then _maybe_ I could have found someone to cover for you."

"Yes I know that, but see the thing is…"

"But coming in here, just hours before your due to start, on possibly the most stressful day of my entire life, is _seriously_ bad timing."

"He's got a REALLY big cock!"

"Oh my God! Images, Kris, images! I've got 'em in my head now… oh God."

"I'm having it off… in more ways than one hopefully, LOL!"

"Did you just say lol?"

"Whatever. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow then, yeah?"

"No you bloody will not!" I jump in front of him as he tries to make his escape. Screw the custard creams, this is more important. "You are not having it off! I'm sorry Kris, but I'm putting my foot down on this one."

And so he proceeds to look down at my feet. "So I see."

"Oh hardy har har." His shoulders have slumped, he's looking defeated, hurrah! Finally, I've got through to him. I always knew I'd make a good manager, never let it be said that Darren Osborne doesn't have great auth… authori… autherm… oh bugger it! "Right, so I'll see you tonight then?"

"No you won't, I'm having it off." WHAT? And the twat's smiling at me as well, cheek!

"NO. YOU. ARE. NOT."

"I am."

"You're not."

"I am."

"You're not!"

"I am!"

"Oh for FUCKS SAKE! Fine! Fucking fuck off then! You may as bloody well, everyone else has today! I've got Craig feeling sorry for himself upstairs… AGAIN. Freda's fucked off to Timbuktu which means I'VE had to do all the cleaning, and as far as I'm concerned she can stay there now an'all. And now I've got you swanning off to go and play with Big-cock Billy…"

"His name is Spaniel, actually."

"Eh?"

"Spaniel… I think it's a nickname, or at least I hope it is. Err…"

"…which means I'm gonna be left sweating my bollocks off behind that bar tonight with absolutely no help whatsoever! So thanks for that Kris, thanks a lot!"

Ok, breathe Darren, breathe… and now he's looking at me like I've grown a third eye, great!

"O-kaayy. Sooo, I'll be seeing you then." He's backing away slowly, holding on to his man purse for dear life. What, does he think I'm gonna shoot him or something? Which actually at this moment in time ain't such a bad idea, right? "Tata then." And with that, he turns away and skips down the road.

I slam the door shut and make my way over to my tea, which by the way is now lukewarm, DAMN YOU KRIS! Nevertheless, I sit back down and tell myself to calm, my soothing inner-voice settling me as I finally, FINALLY take a hold of my delicious custard cream. Man have I been looking forward to this! I'm going to treasure every moment of this, really I am.

I lower the cream to the tea, giving it a good few dunks, just the way I like it. Then I lift it up, my mouth salivating as it awaits it's prize, and then… PLOP. The fucking thing snaps off and nose dive's straight back into me brew.

"AAAARRRRGGGHHHHHHHH!"

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><p><em><strong>Thank you for reading x<strong>_


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi! So this is the first of the joint chapters we wrote. To put it simply, me and Jon had an open Google document and wrote the whole conversation part, back and forth, in character. Then, it being a Darren POV, he filled in the rest of the chapter around it. **

**Enjoy!**

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><p><em><strong>PART EIGHT<strong>_

_**Tuesday 15th May**_

_**Darren**_

"Dazza, stick another one in there would you mate?"

"Yeah in a minute, I'm just changing this till roll."

"Well whenever it's convenient for you."

"There's no need to get sarky with me, I said I'd be with you in a minute didn't I?"

"Well today would be nice."

"Alright, alright, keep your y-fronts on!" Leo Valentine, a total pain in the arse but the source of half our takings.

Today has just been one thing after another, and after my nightmare of a morning I've since spent the last four hours running around like a blue arsed fly. Craig hasn't come down to help, surprise surprise. I did go up and see what the hell he was playing at a couple of hours back, but he was in the same position as I'd left him, only this time he was fast on. I seriously had to restrain myself from throwing a pint of ice cold water over him again, _that'd teach him _I'd thought to myself. Luckily for him the sound of Leo shouting for a re-fill saved his arse from getting a soaking, so I left him to sleep it off.

Don't even get me started on the rest of my ever loyal workforce. I finally managed to get hold of Freda, reckons she's done her back in following an unfortunate accident with a bog brush. She weren't best pleased when I informed her that her services were no longer required. What can I say? It's just business. And then there's Spike, who has yet to put in an appearance. Ok so maybe he is only a couple of minutes late, but with the mood I've been in today he may as well roll in after closing time.

He finally saunters in just as I'm handing Leo his seventh of the afternoon, walking up to the bar with his records bag slung across his shoulder.

"About time too! See that clock up there? For some strange reason it's saying you should have been here five minutes ago!"

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. The bus was a bit late and then…"

"Woah, I don't need your life story. I've been slaving away on my own here since Kris buggered off on his fancy date. I've got Freda phoning in sick, one of the beer pulls is on the blink and now to top it all off, my DJ swans in late harping on about frigging bus times!"

"Like I said, sorry but it's hardly my fault if…"

"I mean have I got MUG tattooed on this forehead today or what? I'm trying to run a business here, not a drop in centre for the bloody needy. Maybe I should just give up now, seeing as I'm the only one who actually does anything around here." And before you say anything, I know I'm acting like a prick right now, Spike's probably the fifth person today to be on the receiving end of one of these rants. But a guy's gotta let off steam, and it's his own fault anyway for rocking up late.

"Uh, okay." Great, and now he thinks I'm totally barmy... although if I'm honest I'm starting to wonder myself. "In that case I'll just get out of your way then, shall I?" He turns towards the decks ready to set up for later… and I might have let him get on with it if it weren't for the 'Jeez, talk about stress head' comment that he's just muttered.

"Did you just… stress head? _Stress head_? I am NOT stressed. I'm not! I'm calm, as calm as can be in fact. I'm practically unconscious for God's sake!" Ok Darren, calm your breathing down son, concentrate on that inner voice… no not that one, the South African one… theeeere we go, listen to Mamello, thaaaat's it. Now open your eyes and all shall be fine and dandy once more, Mamello promises you. "Right, now where were we?"

Why is he looking at me gone out? Is there something on my face? "Darren mate, you went ultra-sonic there for a sec, you sure you're not stressed? Maybe just a little bit?" He's taking the piss outta me, the twat is actually laughing at me… until I throw him the glare of death that is, the glare that says 'shut your noise or I'll sack your arse'. _That showed him_ I think to myself. "Hang on, I uh… I thought Craig was working this afternoon? I could've sworn Kris mentioned it last night."

"Don't even get me started on Craig, he's about as reliable as a one-legged man in an arse kicking contest. I'd ask him to come down if I thought it'd get me anywhere, but he'll either be asleep still or it'll be all '_Urghh, leave me alone Darren, my head hurts Darren, I think I'm coming down with something Darren_'. Honestly, he's a liability that one, he'd do more damage than good if he came down."

"Not much use then?" You said it pal. "In that case I'll give you a hand, yeah? Can't have you getting all hot and bothered this early in the day can we?" Ok, now what does he mean by that? And who the hell invited him behind my bar? Then again, I can't complain if he's gonna put me some glasses back on the shelves, right? "What's up with him then? He seemed alright last night… well, aside from looking at me like he wanted to stick pins in my head, that is."

"Your guess is as good as mine mate." Picking up a clean bar towel, I make a start on drying the fresh glasses that have just come out of the washer, passing them along to Spike as I go. "He was fine until he had that fallin' out with lover boy, now he's only happy when he's pissed out of his mind. Getting anything out of that one is like trying to draw blood from a stone."

"Lover boy? You mean John Paul, right?" he sniggers. Well who else would I be talking about? Neville? I think not. "What makes you think he has anything to do with it? He could just be stressing about his exams, I know John Paul is."

"But what else could it be? It's not his exams that's for sure, he doesn't seem to give a stuff about them anymore. I mean can you imagine that - Frankie's face when she realises Golden Wonder has failed his exams _again_?" I can see it now, she'll do the whole beetroot thing that she does so well, her face ballooning up as she shakes with temper - a bit like a purple vibrator. "Nah mate, gotta be John Paul."

"You think it's the falling out that has him behaving like this then? Not the other stuff?"

"Well look at it this way. Craig finds himself a mate, Craig spends all his time with said mate and everything is hunky dory in the land of Craig. Then Craig has a tiff with said mate, Craig and said mate stop talking and all of a sudden the hunky dory land of Craig has turned into a safe haven for the drunk and disorderly!" Aaaand breathe. "Now d'ya see what I... wait, what other stuff?"

"You know, the whole drama over the kiss and everything. From what I've heard that freaked him out pretty bad, that's why he was such a tosser and punched John Paul in the first place." Err, who the hell gave him the right to talk about Craig like that? _I'm _the one that calls him the tosser, not Spike - and why oh why is he looking me up and down like that? "Not that I uh, condone that kind of behaviour. I'd at least ask first."

"Riiiight." Well that was weird, was he just flir… no, no he couldn't have been. "But hold on a minute, it was John Paul who kissed Craig, not the other way around. You can't exactly blame the guy for decking him can you? I mean what did John Paul think would happen, eh? Maybe it was a bit of an over-reaction an'all that but to be honest I'd probably do the same if some guy came on to me."

"Darren, you probably wouldn't realise a bloke was coming on to you if he bent you over and bit you on the backside." What's that supposed to mean now? I swear someone's slipped some loopy juice in his tea this morning. "What are you saying then? John Paul deserved to be queer bashed by his best friend? Is that it? Cos if you are then I'm disappointed mate."

"Wha… I didn't say…"

"So just...let me get this straight. John Paul gets his lights punched out by the person he trusted the most, and you say it might have been an 'over-reaction'? Whatever man. Even so, he was his best mate, Craig's bound to feel some guilt at hurting him, surely?"

"Well actually…"

"Besides…" For fucks sake! Can I not get a word in edge-ways here? "…the kiss can't have been that much of a shocker, it's not like he didn't know John Paul was in love with him."

"What? Well that can't be right, who said anything about love? Craig would've said something to us after a bombshell like t_hat_, surely? I mean I know he's been all cagey and everything recently, but it's not everyday you hear something like that, is it? And anyway, he's _your _boyfriend. I'm not sure I'd be too happy if I knew my bird was hung up over someone else!" That told him.

"Wait, you actually believe Craig would've told you that John Paul said he loved him?" Err, maybe. And how is that funny? "No way! I might not know Craig all that well but I'm pretty sure that's the kind of thing you'd keep to yourself. Besides, John Paul wasn't even out then."

Wait a minute, does that mean… "Well it's no bloody wonder Craig's head is fried if all this has been going on as well! That's just his luck that, innit? He finally finds himself a friend after years of being Billy-no-mates, then just when he thinks he's got it made it all goes tits up for him!" Why did I not work this out sooner? Poor sod, you've gotta feel for the kid. "So does John Paul still love him then? Is that why they ain't talking still? Cos I'm telling you now, there is no way Craig would park his bike around the back, best mate or no best mate."

"You're sure about that are you?" Eh? Of course I'm bloody sure. Is he trying to say that Craig's a backdoor burglar? What planet is he on? "Whatever Darren. Listen, I've no idea why they aren't still talking. If you ask me, they should be - and I think if it was up to John Paul, they would be. Look, it's not my place to break confidences believe it or not, so what John Paul does or doesn't feel for Craig now is between them. I messed up before, I admit that. I just assumed you knew that John Paul had told Craig he loved him. After _Hannah's_ little revelation to me…" Oooh, do I detect a bit of distaste there? "…I jumped to the conclusion that it was common knowledge. But as it's not, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention it to anyone else."

Pfft, like he needs to ask, this is me we're talking about, the King of Discretion.

"It's not like you can blame John Paul for his feelings anyway. He didn't ask to fall for his best mate, did he?"

"Well I'm hardly saying that, am I?"

"That's what it sounds like your saying."

"Well… what did he think was gonna happen when he told him, eh? Craig's the straightest straight bloke I know... apart from me, obviously." With that, I head to the other side of the bar to serve some waiting punters.

"I'll have a bag of soft as well please Darren."

"What?" Bloody Leo again, he's always the same at this point in the afternoon. I swear he asked me for a quick kiss the other week, although he says it was a whiskey chaser that he'd wanted.

"A bag of soft. You know, scratchimicallits?"

"You mean scratchings?"

"Yeah, them's the one's." Strewth!

The bar soon quietens down again - although how long for remains to be seen - so I head back over to Spike. "How long has this been going on for anyway? Cos it might explain why Craig hasn't cracked a smile in months."

"Well…"

"And why are you so calm about all this anyway? Do you even care that your bloke's had his eyes on someone else for God know's how long?"

"You don't get to choose who you fall in love with, do you? Gay, straight, bi... Mongoose!" Ok, so I may be in a rotten mood today, but even _I _can can't keep the smile off my face after that one. I mean, it's a mongoose, HA! Too funny. "Craig _might _be straight, emphasis on the might there mate because only he knows that. In answer to your other questions: Point one, I don't think John Paul thought anything was going to happen, he probably just couldn't keep it to himself any longer. What can I say? Unrequited love is a bitch and believe it or not, he's not a complete arse. Point two…" Does he realise he's ticking these off with his fingers? What does he think he looks like? "…seeing as I've already fucked up and told you about it, John Paul told Craig he loved him at Hannah's party, whenever the hell that was. He said something about all hell breaking loose and Craig following him outside. Honestly though, I wasn't paying that much attention." Err, why the hell not? Jeez, some help he's turning out to be! "Which brings us on to point three I guess... we broke up, so I was a little bit distracted."

Woah, hold on a minute. "You broke up? When? I thought you two were going well... not that I'd know. I mean I didn't... I wasn't watching you, you know, I just... well, you were only in here last night weren't you?" Balls, I hope he don't think I was spying on them, the last thing I need is for him to get the wrong impression now. "Hold on, did you break up because of Craig? Is that why you've come here with your twenty questions at the ready?"

"Oh that's right, I forgot everything revolves around Craig." Sarcasm, the lowest form of wit. Nobody does it better than I do, he might as well give it up now. "Hmm yeah, the bus purposely got re routed, Kris left on his little jaunt and Craig got pissed or whatever the fuck he did - leaving you in the shit I might add - just so I can ask you questions about your stupid step brother and get shouted at. Yeah, that sounds like a plan to me." Who's rattled _his _handbag now? "Oh and don't worry Darren, no need to say thanks for the help mate!"

"Alright mate, chill out. Hit a raw nerve have I? And as nice as it is to see all that training at the Academy of 'How To Skirt Around The Issue" being put to good use, you still didn't answer my question. Did you, or did you not, split up with John Paul because of how he feels about our Craig?"

"Look, why me and John Paul split up isn't the question here is it?" WTF? Of course it bloody is! "I thought you were worried about Craig?"

"I _am_worried about him, I was only asking!" Honestly, some people. "So let me get this straight. We've got Craig feeling sorry for himself cos his best mate told him he loved him, who he then beat up and no longer speaks to, meaning he's spent the last few months cooped up in his room acting like a depressed puppy. And then we've got John Paul, who's probably feeling just as sorry for himself now that he's finished with his fella, and all because he's been too busy lusting after his straight ex-best mate this whole damn time who he is, in fact, head over heels in love with! Gah! It's times like this when a barman wishes he had Jeremy Kyle sat on the end of his bar!" And now he's looking at me gone out again… ahh well. "You know what that tells us don't you?"

"Not to get involved? Oh and by the way, I never said that about John Paul."

"No but it's what you meant. Anyway, what it tells us Spikey-Boy, is that those two are a pair of bleeding idiots! Any fool can see that they're missing each other, and if I have to put up with Craig's ugly mug dragging across the floor for much longer then I'm likely to explode! So, if they're not gonna sort it for themselves, then we're gonna have to do it for them aren't we? Eh?" I've got myself grinning like a loon now, but who the hell gives a fuck? I'm a total genius. Then again… "It'd help if we had a clue what's going on inside their heads for a start though, seriously my brain is doing a somersault just thinking about it."

"When you say... _explode_… care to elaborate? Cos that might be something I wouldn't mind sticking around and seeing."

"I'm sorry what?" What in God's holy potato does he mean by that? "Wait, I... did you just... I mean... err, what?" That's it Darren, laugh it off, he'll soon join in. "I mean you're just kidding right? Haha, I get it now, nice one haha, yeah... funny... it's... it's..." Why isn't he joining in? I mean he was joking right? Laugh for fucks sake, laugh! Ok, so he's not joking then if those lustful stares are anything to go by… or at least that's what I think they are. Damn, I'll have to try and steer the conversation away from it myself then. "Err, so anyway as I was saying…"

"So cute." You fucking _what_? "You're cute...when you get flustered, you get this funny little tick in your temple, right...here" Woah! You keep your hands to yourself Graham Norton. "Sorry Boss, what were you saying?...Oh yeah, getting in his head. Well you could always read his diary, assuming he actually writes in it like John Paul does."

"Diary? What diary?" Now _this_ is more like it.

"Oh, you mean you didn't know? Figured you would seeing as you think Craig tells you _everything_." Now there's no need for that, surely? I'm hurt. "Sorry. No John Paul has this red book he writes in sometimes, said he'd been given it by his English teacher, so I thought they'd all have one."

"Wait a minute, a red book?" Could it be? No it couldn't… or could it? "Craig had a red book on him earlier, or at least I think it was red. I didn't really get much of a look in to be honest, he was too busy shovin' it in under his pillow so I just presumed it was one of his porno mags." No but that can't be right, I know where he keeps his porn and it definitely ain't under his pillow. "And writing a diary, I mean it's a bit... gay, ain't it? Err, no offence like, you know."

"None taken, thankfully other people's narrow-mindedness and stereotyping doesn't bother me but once again, you're just showing me exactly why it is that Craig hasn't confided in you and probably _is_writing in his big gay diary as we speak." Alright, I said no offence didn't I? Bloody hell. "Nice one mate, you're just the sort of role model he'd turn to."

"What's that supposed to mean?" 'He's right though, isn't he?' I hear Mamello say, urging me to relent. "Ok, fair point I suppose." Sod you Mamello, ain't you got other stuff to be getting on with? Leave me alone. "So do you really think it's worth having a look at this diary then or what? But I am tellin' ya now, there is no way I'm gonna be able to get into Craig's room without him knowing, he's never out of the bloody thing. Honestly, the smells that are coming from inside there are ungodly!"

"You know what? Maybe it'd be best if you didn't go looking into his stuff. The last thing he needs is you taking the piss" Oh per-lease, as if I would? Talk of the devil, Craig chooses that precise moment to come barging through the pub, not once looking up as he heads for the front exit.

"Craig, where are you going now?"

No answer, shock flaming horror! "Craig!" He glances up just as he reaches the door, but only to throw the pair of us a look that could kill a man in a second. Honestly, I've seen Craig throw some looks over the last few months, but that one even had _me_letting out a bit of wee.

"Then again…" Oh here we go, he's soon changed his tune. "…if you think you could actually help him in some way, this'd be the perfect opportunity for it." Oh I dunno, should I? He'd murder me if he found out, and I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say what an absolute tragedy that would be for this community. But then on the other hand, this is Craig's diary we're talking about, a diary! It'll have all the answers to my questions right there in it's very pages. Decisions, _decisions_! "If you think you can." Shit, the twat's goading me now, fuck. Err… errm…

"Oh sod it, I'm going for it!" 'It's now or bloody never' I think to myself as I head for the stairs to the flat. "But wait, what if he comes back and catches me?" Bugger, we've not thought this through very well. "Right, you're gonna have to keep a look out. If you see him, shout me!" That'll sort it. I've just reached the door to upstairs when another thought occurs to me… "No, no wait! If you shout me then he'll hear you! Oh Christ... err, right well you'll have to text me then if he comes back. But make it snappy if he does, yeah? Cos he is looking for any excuse he can find to murder someone at the minute, and there ain't no way it's gonna be me, right?"

"Just go, Darren… now!"

"Right, yeah you're right." Here I go then, come on! You can do this.

"Darren!" Oh for fu… does he not realise I'm on a frigging time limit here? I glance back quickly to see what the hell he wants now… "Nice arse!"

Oh dear God.

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><p><em><strong>Thank you for reading x<strong>_


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi, here's the next chapter. It isn't as long as the others but it's a complete part.**

**Enjoy xx  
><strong>

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><p><em><strong>Tuesday<strong>** 15th May**_

_**John Paul**_

_**Part Nine**_

Walking through the village, I stop at Drive and Buy for a four finger Kit-Kat and a bottle of Sprite, my attention all the while diverted as I try and sort out in my head what I'll say to Craig when I see him...if I see him...no!, _when _I see him. Should I just say hello and start talking to him like I used to when we were mates, just ignore everything that's happened and carry on as normal or should I just be honest with him, mention that I got his calls but that I simply didn't know how I should respond?

"Cheers Gilly" I take my change and the two items from the counter and head back out into the village, my thoughts still pre-occupied with my predicament. It seems like all too soon, I'm rounding the corner and faced with a familiar sight, one that starts the adrenalin in my body pumping through my system.

Approaching The Dog, I can feel the nervousness and apprehension building, the butterflies in my stomach kicking off into a frenzy when I see the black and cream Tudor style doorway of the pub. Stopping in my tracks, I take a step back until I'm half hidden by the foliage from a couple of the young spruce trees lining the outer edge of the pond. I just need another minute to decide, get things clear in my mind and then I'll go in. No really, I will.

God, what if he tells me to fuck off, that it's too late and he doesn't ever want to speak to me again? That'd be the worst thing ever. Then again, I might get lucky and he could be as excited to see me as I am to see him, especially after we saw each other yesterday. Alright so, he bolted yesterday, things could've gone better but he didn't look like he totally hates me either, did he? Still, the uncertainty makes me anxious.

I give it another minute, sitting down on the gentle incline of the embankment as I drink my bottle of pop and munch on the chocolate. Craig likes chocolate. No, he loves chocolate, maybe I should save the last couple of fingers so I've an excuse to carry on speaking to him if the conversation gets awkward? It might not be the grandest of gestures in the world but offering him a piece of the chocolate would be a definite ice-breaker. Yeah, that's what I'll do.

I carefully wrap the last two sticks back inside the foil, trying not to melt them any more than they already are and finish off my drink, psyching myself up to go in there and just get it over with. Right then, that's it, no more stalling for time. I start pushing myself up but pause when I see the heavy black doors swing open and Craig stride out.

Oh God, he's still fucking gorgeous!

I sink back on the grassy knoll, my legs suddenly unable to hold my weight any longer, the smack of desire and longing I feel at seeing him again hitting me like a kick to the solar plexus. I watch to see where he goes, surprised and elated when he stops at the picnic bench me and Spike sat at yesterday, just beneath and to the left of his bedroom window.

He drags his fingers across the top of the pale wood and then shakes his head, deep in thought, walking passed it to come to stand behind the thick, corded rope in front of the pond. He looks different, something in his appearance making my stomach clench with a need to touch him, my heart aching just to be near him, to get close enough to hold him and soothe away that sadness that seems to surround him. He looks tired, drained, like he's not getting enough sleep. I can't help wondering if it's the break-up with Sarah a few weeks ago or our ever present exams that has him looking so haggard. His hair is dishevelled, the usually glossy, dark strands somehow seeming lifeless and even from this distance, I can see how pale and drawn his face is, despite his cheeks, jaw and chin being covered in a sexy, dark shadow of stubble.

He's still beautiful, just...unkempt.

I'm just contemplating whether this really is the perfect time to approach him when I see him start fumbling within his jeans pocket, extracting something from inside. At first I assume it's his phone and I unconsciously take mine out too, glancing down at it, willing it to ring when I see Craig's nimble fingers handling the object. It's only when I see a spark and witness him holding it towards his face, his hands cupping around his mouth and then a billow of smoke leave his lips that I realise he's holding a pack of cigarettes and he's lit one.

Since when does Craig smoke? He fucking hates it, we both do. God, the number of times we've been walking through the park and he's commented on how unattractive he finds it when a girl smokes and how it must be like kissing an ashtray and now he's started. I have to admit though, it does make him look kind of edgy and sexy as hell. I can feel my dick stirring inside my jeans just from watching him as he flicks the ash from the tip and holds the base to his lips, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as he takes another drag.

He's wearing one of his cardigans, the blue one with the thin white stripes, the loose fitting material shoved up over his forearms and hanging open over a white vest that's half tucked into a pair of snug, dark grey jeans, the contours of which accentuates his slim, lithe frame. I gasp aloud at the sight of him, hoping to God he doesn't hear me as I watch the soft cotton of the undergarment stretch across his torso, riding up provocatively to expose a tantalising glimpse of his midriff as he grasps hold of the rope and rocks back on his heels. As I continue looking at him standing there, he shifts position so he's bent forward, his elbows propped on one of the wooden stakes, his hands clasped tightly together, like he's in prayer. He continues to stand like that as minutes pass, except when he takes a drag of the cigarette. When he does that, his lean fingers hold the stick steady to his lips...lush, full lips that part provocatively to take the fag between them, sucking on the end, those mesmerising dark eyes of his that'd been staring into the pond, closing as he inhales.

I can't stop another groan of delight escaping me as I let my eyes wander over Craig, biting my lip to stop myself emitting another sigh of pleasure as I take in the way his bent at the waist posture emphasises the denim of his jeans as they mould themselves tightly to the backs of his thighs and his firm, rounded ass. He lifts the cigarette back up to his lips again and takes one last drag before flicking the butt into the pond, his eyes narrowing, a thin smile playing over his lips as he watches it arc its way upwards and then down towards the water.

He stands for another second or two and watches the ripples in the water before making his way over to the little jetty, settling himself down on the warm, bleached decking, letting his legs dangle over the end of the little wooden pier towards the water beneath.

He stares at the water for a while and I wonder if the time is right to make my presence known and go over there but I dismiss the notion when I see a group of people exit the pub, making his whole countenance change. He seems to become agitated, his whole body exuding a warning to keep away, the aloof, tense way he's holding himself pretty much warning anyone coming close to back off.

I must've already taken a tentative step forward though because he suddenly lifts his head and turns it towards me, his gaze seeming to zone in, locking on mine the second it lands on me. Shit! I must look like a startled rabbit because I just stand there for what feels like an eternity, frozen in place, as though my feet are pinned to the ground, staring back at him.

Oh God, I wish I was close enough to see what he was thinking, then maybe I'd have a clue what to do in my current situation. Right John Paul, man up, it's as simple as that. Licking my suddenly dry lips and inhaling a deep breath to compose myself, I take a step forward, raising my hand to chest height and waving it just once in his direction. Craig blinks and then frowns, drawing his knees up to his chest at the same time as he places his hand down on the jetty beside him, pressing his weight on it so he can swivel the top half of his body around to look back over his shoulder.

When he sees nothing behind him, he turns back towards me frowning, his facial expression and body language screaming wariness and something more, something deeper than that that I can't quite put my finger on. Almost like he's scared. Yeah, that's it, his whole demeanour is reminiscent of a startled rabbit surrounded by hounds but mixed with something else too that I just can't put my finger on. Something else flickers across his face and it's at that point that I realise what he's about to do next, even before _he _does. I might've anticipated his next action but that doesn't stop the physical and emotional jolt of pain I experience when he scrambles to his feet and bolts, dodging passed a young couple as they leave the pub, becoming completely obscured from my view as he pushes his way through the heavy wooden door.

I take off after him without a moments hesitation as the adrenalin in my body kicks in, my legs carrying me down the slope of the hill so fast that I almost slip, they can barely keep up with the momentum. I run all the way around the edge of the pond, breathless, my the feelings of doubt only kicking in once I've hit the stone flagging of the beer garden.

"_Craig_". I stop abruptly on the outer edge, clasping my hands behind me head as I think what to do, before dropping them to my sides in frustration, my gaze glued to the door the whole time, willing him to come back outside because there's no way in hell I'm brave enough to go in there.

He doesn't though and after a few minutes of waiting, I eventually I resign myself to that fact. Still, it's a few more minutes before I can actually get my limbs to move. Admitting defeat, I turn away from the pub and start walking home, grimacing when I stuff my hands in my pockets and my fingers encountering the soft, mashed up remnants of the Kit-Kat. Taking it out and un-peeling the foil from around it before tossing it in a bin, I can't help comparing the sticky chocolate to mine and Craig's friendship... an un-salvageable mess.

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><p><em><strong>Thank you for reading x<strong>_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Tuesday 15th May**_

_**Darren**_

_**Part Ten**_

I try not to think too much about Spike's 'nice arse' comment as I take the stairs two steps at a time. To be fair to the guy he isn't far wrong, I do have a bloody brilliant arse. I tend to do a lot of bending down when I'm behind the bar and I can tell you now, there's not many that don't have a quick glance or several. It's even been known for a few of the more desperate of our species to lean over and grab themselves a handful and a half, but as I said to Large last night - this booty is strictly exit only. The only time anyone will ever be allowed near this is if it's some hot chick clawing at me as I give her the time of her life. So yeah, he can look all he wants, but there ain't no way he's ever gonna be touching.

Remembering Smiler could come back at any moment, I hop on through the living area and straight into his lair, and my God is it a sight for sore eyes. If I thought it was bad this morning when I popped my head around then that's nothing compared to what it's like now. The idiot has even left his manky underwear scattered all over the floor, although if I'm honest I'm trying not to look at those too much, there's some very suspicious colouring on that white pair over there that I don't quite like the look of. It's the smell that's getting to me more than anything though, there's got to be a dead rat in here somewhere, a rat with extremely poor hygiene problems. Seriously Roland, get yourself down to the showers lad.

I work my way towards his bed slower than what I really have the time for, but honestly if my foot touches a single one of his sweaty socks then I shall squeal. Once there, I take the edge of his pillow between the tips of my two fingers and slowly move it away, holding my nose so as to avoid inhaling any Craig germs that my actions may have disturbed. It isn't until I let go of the pillow and look back down that I realise the diary that I'm looking for, the sole reason that I forced myself to enter this hellish hole in the first place, is only bloody missing. Craig you absolute pillock! Why would he move it? Does he not trust me to leave his stuff alone or something? Well that's nice isn't it? That's what your call gratitude. I'm offended.

Now it really is a race against Craig as my eyes scan the room, searching like mad for the same flash of red that I caught a glimpse of earlier. Think Darren, think! Where would a depressed teenager keep his most secret, treasured possession? It's got to be in here somewhere, he definitely didn't have it on him when he walked past us just now. I move around, flicking rubbish away here and there as I search through his desk and - Lord help me - under his bed. It's not there though, and it's not in any of his drawers either by the looks of things. There's only one place it could be then, he's stashed it with his porn hasn't he? Ha, you beauty! I yank the wardrobe doors open and delve deep inside behind the pile of funky cardigans, locating his kinky stash within seconds. And would you believe it? There it is in all it's diary-like glory, right on top of an old Ripple magazine… which by the way I'm sure the twat's stolen from me. Well I'm taking that back for starters.

On second thoughts, I'm really not liking the idea of finding any suspect pages stuck together, seriously eww. Fine then, the Ripple stays where it is, but the Diary is coming with me. I move back over to the bed, parking my bootylicious behind on Craig's duvet as I cross my legs under me. I know how wrong this should feel, this is the last thing Craig would want any of us seeing, but it's all in the name of love, right? At least that's what I tell myself as I lift the cover, nervous excitement brewing deep inside me as I begin to read.

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><p><em><strong>23rd September 2006<strong>_

_**Dear Diary,**_

_**So here I am again, and I can honestly say I never expected to be doing this for the second year running. When we got asked to do this last year I never really took it all that seriously, I could probably count on one hand just how many times I bothered to put pen to paper. But then I suppose that's just one of the many reasons why I'm back here repeating the year that I failed miserably at last time. So I've decided now that I'm going to do what I'm supposed to be doing for a change, which includes pouring my heart and soul out into this bad boy. Technically I should have started it a few weeks back, but I've not really had much chance after the fire at the Dog.**_

_**A lot has changed in the last year. So far this term I've spent most of it on the receiving end of Sonny Valentine's fist. He's had it in for me ever since Jake knocked his mum over and left her for dead. I felt sorry for him at first, and in a way I still do, but it's not my fault is it ? I wish he'd just leave me alone now. He's usually got his henchman with him as well, Justin Burton, so in other words I'm completely screwed.**_

_**But now on to the good bit - I've only gone and got myself a best mate! It's about time, eh? His name is John Paul, I've not known him all that long yet but he's wicked, dunno what I'd do without him now. He's been great with Sonny and Justin as well, most people seem to quite enjoy watching me suffer but John Paul's different. He's always checking up on me and we text all the time. I'm pretty sure he told Sonny to back off the other day as well. He hasn't told me that he did yet, usually I'd be annoyed as hell at someone for fighting my battles for me, but I dunno, it just made me feel kinda warm inside. Not that I'd ever tell him that, I don't want him thinking I'm gay or anything. He'd probably run a mile and I'd end up on my own again, really don't relish the prospect of that happening.**_

_**I reckon I might have found myself a potential girlfriend as well, so that's quite good too. I was gonna try and chat with her tonight on myspace but me and JP are gonna play Fifa round his instead, anything is better than this BnB. I'm getting us some cans on the way as well, can't wait.**_

_**Right I'm off, talk to you later maybe. I'm putting a stop to this 'dear diary' business though, I bloody knew I shouldn't have wrote that.**_

_**Laters.**_

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><p>I finish the first page, the excitement I originally felt having all but diminished within the space of a minute. As soft as it sounds, it's brought a bit of a lump to my throat knowing just how strongly Craig felt about John Paul even all those months ago. I don't mean in a gay sort of way obviously, but with all the shit he had to put up with back then from the likes of Sonny and Justin, at least he had a mate to knock about with. He sounded so bloody excited about it in here as well and now the daft sod's gone and lost it all, just like he feared he might.<p>

It's weird reading about Craig in this way, he sounds… well, like normal Craig. He's never been the most confident of people, and school can't have been much of a doddle for him either thanks to his idiot of a brother. But by the sounds of it he was finally finding his feet, he'd found someone on his wavelength who clearly didn't judge him like all the others must have, so is it really any wonder that he latched on to John Paul for dear life? He was someone Craig could rely on, someone who had his back and he had theirs. I mean come on, I've only read one page and already I can see that John Paul was bringing out the best in him again, he sounds genuinely excited about doing something as simple as playing Fifa, like any normal teenager should. And on top of all that he was actually getting a bit of interest from some lass, who I presume must have been Sarah. He's had to put up with some right crap in the past from girlfriends doing the dirty on him. Natalie, well she's always been a bit of a cheap whore, but Craig really bloody liked her, and the same with Darlene. Ok so admittedly I played a part in that second one, but just as I'm doing now, it was all in the name of tough love. I did it for him… even if it was quite enjoyable at the time.

Anyway my point is, that's the sort of person Craig is - he's insecure, really bloody insecure. So when he meets someone he thinks likes him back as much as he likes them, be it as friends or otherwise, he has a habit of attaching himself to them far too quickly and ultimately ending up getting hurt when things don't go the way he'd hoped they would. Except it's different with John Paul, isn't it? Because girlfriends, well they come and go and Craig got over them eventually, but it's been months now since he fell out with John Paul and he's worse now than he was with both Natalie and Darlene. I guess it just proves what I already knew, having John Paul as a best mate has meant more to Craig than any girl ever did... And losing that best mate has been a hell of a lot worse.

I've been up here a while now, and if Craig's only outside doing what I think he's doing then it's not gonna be long before he comes back again. Figuring I'd best make the most of the time I've got left, I skip a few pages of the diary hoping to get to more of the juicy stuff, and then I read.

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><p><em><strong>25th January 2007<strong>_

_**Well thank fuck for that! Today I finally told JP about Tenerife, and do you know what? He was absolutely fine about it, I dunno what I was worried about. Well I DO know, I was worried he'd hate me when I told him I was ditching the soccer camp we'd planned together to go on holiday with Sarah instead. So after spending the whole of yesterday scared shitless that I was about to lose my best mate, I finally plucked up the courage to tell him in Ill Gnosh - and he was great about it. That's what I love about John Paul, he's so laid back about stuff. I wish I could be more like him.**_

_**So that's America off my list of things to do this summer, and to be honest I'm kinda gutted. We would have had such a laugh out there me and him, but Sarah wants to go away so I can't really get out of it. Not that I want to, I'm sure it'll be great and everything, but there would've been other holidays we could've gone on and I know JP was really looking forward to it, so was I. Still, anything to keep her happy I suppose. I definitely wanna go on holiday with John Paul as well though at some point, just a lads holiday without the girls, it'll be tops.**_

_**Besides, he's got Hannah to think of now anyway. They're at it again as well apparently, lucky boy. Oh yeah, and she gave him a 20 out of 10. I wonder what Sarah gave me? Anyway so yeah, those pair are all loved up now, so I guess he'll be spending more time with her rather than me which is a bit crap. Don't get me wrong, I'm dead happy for him and all that but I still wanna hang around with him, you know? It's not like I don't enjoy my time with Sarah, but it's different with your mates ain't it? You can have more of a laugh with them.**_

_**Actually, maybe that's why he wasn't bothered when I told him I couldn't go, maybe he prefers spending time with her now instead. I hope not though, where's that gonna leave me then? He's even with her now, me and Sarah left them to it. I was meant to go back to hers but I don't fancy it tonight, I'm just in a bit of a funny mood. I was gonna see if he fancied coming round but I guess I should leave them to it. I could always call Sarah again instead, it's better than sitting up here doing nothing. I'll see him tomorrow though, so he can come around then - if he wants to.**_

_**I've run out of space anyway so I'm going for a shower.**_

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><p>There he goes again, scaring himself shitless that he might lose John Paul over something as miniscule as that. Christ knows how he must have felt when he DID actually lose him, it must have been like all of his worst fears being realised all at once. In all honesty, reading this is just making me feel more and more gutted for him. He's been a nightmare recently, there's been plenty of times over the last few days where I've wanted to throttle the dying daylights out of him, but now I'm finally seeing the true extent of the situation he's got himself in. He's drinking himself stupid most nights because he's back to being a loner, he finally got himself a taste of the good stuff and threw it all away. He does it because he thinks he's got nothing better to do, he's not going to Tenerife anymore, he's not going to soccer camp, and he's lost any chance he ever had of going on that lad's holiday that he clearly loved the idea of.<p>

It's not just that though, cos I already knew about Craig and Sarah booking a holiday to Tenerife and I never really thought much of it at the time - other than being mildly envious about the tan's they would have no doubt caught whilst there. No, it's the fact that Craig didn't even want to go in the first place if this diary is anything to go by, he was just going along with it to please Sarah. In fact by the sounds of things he was doing a lot of stuff for the sake of his relationship even though he'd sooner have spent the time with John Paul. I'm confused though, why would any hot blooded male want to pass up the chance of sun, sea and sex in favour of a kick about with a mate? It's Sarah Barnes for crying out loud, she's as fit as a fiddle! And then down here at the bottom of the page where he says he was supposed to go back to his girlfriends house - which I'm guessing would have been empty - but he reckons he didn't feel like it. Didn't frigging feel like it? And then in the next breath he's contemplating giving his mate a ring to see if he wants to hang out, what's that all about?

He's a mystery is Craig at times, I just do not get it. He even sounds jealous when he mentions Hannah, almost as if he thinks the more time John Paul spends with her, the more chance there is of her stealing his best bud away from him. I know I said he's a very insecure person, but when it comes to a certain McQueen it seems those insecurity levels fly right off the chart. Well as it turns out he didn't ever really have anything to worry about with Hannah what with John Paul swapping sides and everything, but I can see now where Craig's dislike for Spike comes from… he's jealous, and not for the first time neither!

So now all I need to do is work out why, why would he be jealous. It'd be like me being jealous of Zoe for going out with Zak, although to be fair I would be pretty damn jealous if he was, she has one cracking pair of pins. But that's my point isn't it? I'd be jealous of _him_ for dating _her_, I certainly wouldn't be jealous of _her_ for dating _him_which is what Craig seems to be. He wasn't interested in Hannah, I can one million percent guarantee he has nothing but pure hatred for Spike and let's face it, he was never all that bothered about Sarah in the end, was he? He just wants his John Paul back, I honestly believe that that's the one and only answer to all of his problems.

I probably don't say it all that often, in fact I don't ever recall having said this before, but I do love him like he was my own brother. I want him to get himself out of this hole he's found himself in and get his life back on track. I want him to win his best mate around again, just like he did last year. I want to see the old Craig back again, the one that thinks he's funnier than me, the one that goes out on the piss with John Paul and comes back having had the best night of his life. But most of all, I want him to be happy, and the only way that that's ever going to happen is if I do it all for him, cos there is not a cat in hell's chance that he'll do it himself now. This would be so easy if I could only come across a Time Lord, I could just throw him into that Tardis and whisk him back to a few months ago where everything was as it should be. But unfortunately for me I'm no Billie Piper (even if I do have a nicer arse), so instead I'm gonna have to revert to plan B. But I am telling you now, this story only has one ending, and I am going to make damn sure it's the right one.

I'm broken from my thoughts by the sounds of Right Said Fred blaring away inside my pocket. Remembering what I'd said to Spike before coming upstairs, I quickly grab at my phone and press answer.

"Is he coming?"

No answer, but I can definitely hear the sounds of the pub downstairs so I know it's Spike even without having checked the caller ID.

"Spike?"

I keep the phone pressed to my ear and listen intently as I pull myself up off the bed, the nerves I felt earlier rearing their ugly heads once more as I hurry over to the other side of the room to replace the diary where I originally found it. It's not until I close the wardrobe doors that I finally hear why Spike isn't answering me. Craig's back, and by the sounds of things it's about to get pretty nasty between them. I definitely know it's time to get out of here when I hear Craig threaten to 'fucking floor' poor ole Spike, so with a quick glance around the room to make sure everything's as it was - sweaty socks and all - I pull the door shut and make my way back towards the stairs again. Time to go and save the honey bee from the Rottweiler.

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><p><em><strong>Thank you for reading x<strong>_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Tuesday 15th May**_

**_Spike and Craig_**

**_Part Eleven_**

The prospect of having to talk to Darren's surly step brother and John Paul's ex best friend slash 'love of his life' doesn't exactly appeal to me so when a few minutes have passed, I start to think I might get lucky and Darren will return before Craig gets back. Unfortunately, I realise I had that thought too soon and I didn't touch wood like I should've because the door suddenly flies open and he races through like the proverbial bat out of hell, bumping into one of the burly regulars and sending himself sprawling to the floor in the process.

Now I'll admit, a part of me wants to laugh my ass off because this is the guy who's been chucking more evils my way than Buffy and holds the heart of the guy that I fancy, so I should be pissed off but, truth be told, I feel sorry for him. I mean, his life seems to have gone to shit as far as I can see and it's all because he's got these closeted feelings for his best mate...ex best mate and he doesn't know how to deal.

Jim or Joel or... whatever the heck the regulars name is, puts a hand out to help Craig up but he ignores it, muttering beneath his breath and shaking his head forlornly. Once the bloke moves away, Craig gets into a sitting position and starts brushing himself off, glancing over his shoulder towards the doorway, relief etched into his features when he sees there's nothing there. Hmm, wonder what spooked him? I crane my neck to see outside but there're people there, blocking the entrance.

Remembering The Sulky One, I look over and attempt to catch his eye, smiling, but, see, even now, his eyes narrow and he scowls, looking at me like he'd love to see my head served up as 'catch of the day'. Stuff him then, I don't know why I bother. He as good as stole my boyfriend and gets to live with Darren day in and day out, why should I carry on trying to be nice when he's being a twat?

Bollocks! Speaking of Darren, that reminds me. I quickly reach for my phone when I see Craig clambering to his feet and I realise I don't have time to form a text before Craig gets here. Instead, I speedily scroll through the first few contacts to 'Boss Man' and press call, just in time it seems as Craig comes storming towards me.

"Shit!...whoa, whoa, whoa, where's the fire?" I hold my hand out, my palm splaying across his chest as he attempts to shove past me, catching a flicker of something in his eyes when I look at him. Ahh fuck, talk about putting my foot in it. "Sorry...sorry, I just... what's the rush?" Craig looks down at my hand, his gaze coming back to mine, the brown depths of his irises flashing venomously back at me.

"Get out my way." he growls through gritted teeth. I'm serious, he practically snarls at me, his jaw locking as his expression contorts into a look of pure hatred, his right cheek bone pulsing with the tension. I don't back away though. Call me brave, call me stupid or just call the men in the white coats to come and take me away. I don't care. I told Darren I'd watch his back and hold the fort so he can help Craig and that's what I'm doing. Lesser men have died for much smaller causes so, damn, if I go down it might as well be to save this little tossers love life.

I kind of forgot he was there for a second as an image of me on horseback, beneath a portcullis, waving a sword around to fend off Craig in front of Darren and John Paul springs to mind. It's soon gone though and I'm brought back to the present when Craig almost slips passed me, stopping once more in his tracks when I lift my other hand to his shoulder, holding him at bay. I'm pushing it, I know I am because this kid looks like he's about to lose it and by the look on his face, any minute now, he's going to try and deck me. He turns his head and looks back over his shoulder again, his body tensing even more beneath my hand, like a coiled snake about to strike. That's when I see something resembling fear in his eyes and feel his heart beating a crazy, fast rhythm beneath my fingers. Still, whatever made him run in here like the hounds of hell were at his heels, I can't let him escape upstairs, not yet, Darren'll kill me.

"Wait! I uh...I hear you're going out with a model?" Oh yeah, that's really fucking bright of you Spike, I can hear the flashbulbs popping at that one. Get the lad to calm the fuck down by mentioning the hot girl he was going out with..._was_ being the operative word.

"What?" He looks at me incredulous, like I've sprouted horns or said something totally fucking stupid, which I have, so I'll forgive him for that, then changes his expression to one of complete and utter annoyance, waving his hand at me like I'm a pesky moth. Kind of rude but then I am still in his way so I guess I can't blame him. "Will you just move out of my bloody way, now!"

"No! I mean uhh..._Darren _wanted me to tell you that he needs you to get some glasses from outside" I stutter out, emphasising Boss Man's name so his step brother doesn't have another go and turn all ninja on me. It doesn't seem to matter who's to blame really. Craig still gets huffy, his cheeks puffing out as his fists plant themselves on his slim hips. Kind of cute, in a...stroppy teen kind of way. Not my type by any means but still, with those long girlish eyelashes and that sassy mouth, I can see why John Paul would find him attractive...physically anyway. The personality though, that's severely lacking.

"And as I told Darren _yesterday_, I ain't no glass collecting skivvy" he counters, getting irate. "Besides I'm off duty, if _he_ wants them, then _he_can go get them. Now are you gonna shift or what?" I look at him thoughtfully, clearly pissing him off, one hand rubbing at my chin as I turn my eyes to the ceiling.

"I'm thinking not" I tease, quite liking the fact that the hatred in his voice has at least decreased to intense dislike.

Balls, I should've seen that one coming. Craig suddenly surges forward, his actions making me grip the front of his clothing tightly to stop him escaping, my fingers making a fist around the loose material of his cardigan and vest at the last second. I can feel his chest heaving against my knuckles as he continues to push against them but I still don't let him pass, despite thinking he might explode beneath my touch at any given minute. His lip curls and his breath leaves his lungs in a huff as he bats my hand away, the warm, sweet scented air wafting across my cheek. Woah! That's potent.

"What do you mean 'off duty' anyway? You mean too hung-over to work don't you?" I say, waving my hand in front of my face. His brows furrow, confusion filling his troubled eyes as they follow the movement my hand is making.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asks, clearly affronted. I try to clear the dryness from my throat, licking my lips as I look back at him, feeling more than just a little annoyed at myself for letting my questions and replies become so personal. Hell, I can see he's in a state, me making an issue of it is hardly going to make him feel any better is it? The last thing I want is to be the one to send him over the edge. It only really takes a moment or two for my words to sink in though as, right before my eyes, he changes back from a wounded, sad eyed puppy to the irascible, mildly sexy teenager he was seconds before. "Hang on..." he frowns at me as he waggles his finger in my face, making me want to grab it, "have you two been talkin' about me behind my back?" he asks indignantly, his tone accusing. I send up a silent apology to Darren because I fear I may have really landed him in the crap. Still, it's not like Craig's behaviour isn't evident. He's standing right before me.

"Craig, _Sweetheart_, I don't need to have been talking about you to know you've been drinking. I could be all the way over the other side of the village and I'd be able to smell you, you stink like a brewery and, no offence mate, but you look like shit". He swallows, then looks back over his shoulder, his eyes lingering on the door for a second before turning back to me, the crestfallen expression on his face showing his pain. I've done it again, I feel like I just kicked Bambi. His head bows as he looks down at his attire, his hand lifting to his face to scratch over the short, dark hairs of shadow covering his jaw and cheeks. Victory seems bitter-sweet at that point, especially when it looks like a good, stiff breeze would knock him down but then something flickers over his features and enters his eyes, like he's resolved something. He squares his shoulders and stands straight up, looking me in the eye, the defeat that was there seconds ago, vanishing.

"You know what? I don't have to explain myself to an idiot like you" he says calmly, the tone of his voice masking the hostility and loathing I still see in his eyes. He makes a move to pass me again but I'm still on a mission, more so now than before because with each passing second, I'm learning more about him. I like the fight in him, it makes me realise if he's this protective of himself, how loyal he could be to others. I fold my arms this time and take a step forward, effectively blocking the door leading upstairs.

"You're right, you don't. You don't have to explain yourself to anyone, do you Craig?" I taunt, shaking my head when his eyes narrow at me.

"What're you so afraid of Craig?" I ask, blatantly looking around him, my gaze resting on the entrance door because he keeps fixating on it. He stiffens, the move so fleeting I might've imagined it if I hadn't been watching for such a micro-movement in the first place. Hmm, interesting.

Defensive...check, annoyed...check...wary, secretive and judging by the flush in his cheeks, a little bit excited too..check. It makes me wonder what I would've seen if I'd been hanging around outside a few minutes earlier. Something tells me I wouldn't want to know. Still, all those things are replaced with anger once more, in a matter of seconds.

"I swear I am gonna fucking floor you in a minute!" he grinds out, his teeth once more, clenching. The way his hands ball into fists at his sides, I'll admit, I wouldn't put it passed him but to be fair, it seems more like his natural instinct is to run away, not fight me. He's practically trembling in front of me, the dark, deep pools of his eyes flashing with unconcealed animosity as they come to lock on mine.

I can't help it, I feel the tension bubbling up inside of me and I laugh and that's the worst thing I could've possibly done in this situation. Hell, it might not be to everyone else but to me, it's obvious that this self destruction, self loathing thing he has going on is directly associated to John Paul. In fact, I'd be willing to bet my whole collection of white labels that he saw or spoke to John Paul when he was outside and that's why he came tearing through the door like a man possessed. Still, he really needs to see that beating the shit out of people isn't going to get anything resolved, it's what got him here in the first place.

"Really? You wanna go _there _again do you?" I ask seriously, tilting my head to one side to look at him sternly. I admit, up until I discovered my Dad and Simon listening to The Housemartins one afternoon, I'd wanted to be a primary school teacher, so the 'you ought to be ashamed of yourself' look was one I'd perfected at a young age. Clearly it's lost on Craig as he surges forward, getting right in my face.

"Right, that's it..."

"Woah, break it up ladies please!" Craig looks passed me and I turn at the sound of Darren's amused voice, those weird sensations I keep getting, returning, when I see him lounging against the doorway leading to the flat upstairs. "What's going on here then?" he asks, his eyes flicking between the pair of us.

Well this is embarrassing. How not to impress a guy; Let him catch you taunting his little brother...great! Cheers Craig. I'm just trying to come up with the best way to word things so I don't come over like a complete prick when Craig starts in.

"Oh I'll tell you what's going on! This prick won't let me passed, that's what's going on. Fancies himself as a fucking bouncer!" he says, not even attempting to veil his anger as he stands beside me, his body practically vibrating with indignation. I bite my lip as Craig explodes, sharing my merriment in the situation with Darren when he catches my eye, feeling a little flustered when he casually folds his arms and raises his brows at me.

"Well Sweetcheeks here was just about to give me the same treatment he gave..." I let my statement peter off, deciding that stooping to Craig's level will do nothing but make me look pathetic and immature, two things I don't relish being thought of...not by my boss at any rate. What I've already said, doesn't actually sink in until I note the silence. At that point, my gaze flicks from Darren's shocked expression to Craig's hurt one, those expressive eyes of his filling with anguish. Great, fucking great. Even when I'm trying to help, I still wind up being the bad guy.

"Alright alright, enough now yeah?" Darren steps forward and lifts his hand to push against Craig's chest, putting himself between the pair of us. Then he raises his other hand to my shoulder and pats it, turning to look at me, his bluey grey eyes smiling mischievously. "Now Spike, be a good little bouncer and let the nice man pass." I roll my eyes at him but he just tilts his head and gives me this pleading 'just leave it' look. I hold my hands up, nodding.  
>"Okay, you're the boss. I'll just..."<p>

"No no, let him finish. Same treatment I gave who?" Craig asks quietly from the other side of Darren, his voice kind of woeful and sad. He knows exactly who I mean, I can see it in his eyes but it's as though he wants to punish himself further for his mistake by hearing me say John Paul's name aloud. I shouldn't feel bad. I really shouldn't. I mean, I haven't actually done anything wrong and from the despondent look on his face, he knows that. Still, I can't help feeling sorry for him. It's obvious he feels guilty about beating up John Paul and he clearly regrets it, I just don't understand why he seems hell bent on destroying himself instead of finding a way to sort things out.

Talking to John Paul last night was enlightening and the main thing I became aware of was how much Craig's friendship meant to him. Maybe I'm wrong and Craig isn't attracted to him at all...one can dream I guess but I'm not wrong thinking Craig misses him, no way. My gay-dar might be off but that is one thing I'd bet money on.

"Well?" I look up, realising Craig's still waiting for an answer.

"Forget it, it's not worth the hassle...'_at least not to me_''" I mutter beneath my breath, half hoping he'll hear me. He seems to, _maybe_, because he looks at me from beneath his eyelashes, his cheeks stained pink beneath that gorgeous tan complexion of his. Holding my hands up, I back away completely, giving him more than enough space to go passed me. He nods curtly as he starts to shoulder his way through and at that point, I stop him, this time by simply wrapping my fingers gently around his wrist."You know what though? Take a look around you. For some reason, and I'll be damned if I know why, people actually seem to care about you. Why not try _not_ pissing it down the toilet and showing them it's deserved eh?" I wait until I see a hint of recognition at my words before letting go, turning my back on the pair to wash more glasses.

"Hey, what was all that about?" I glance over to see Darren leaning through the door frame, looking up towards the stairs. Craning my neck a bit I see Craig standing there about half way up, his head down, shoulders rigid as he lets out an audible sigh.

"Just leave it, it was nothing." He makes it another two steps before stopping and turning back to Darren. "And another thing, next time you get the urge to share _my_ business with your employees, try and fucking restrain yourself, yeah? I mean is it seriously any wonder why I tell you lot nothing?"

"Wait! Craig!" Darren shouts up the stairs after him but Craig ignores his step brother, bounding up the last few steps into the flat, slamming the door closed behind him. I hear Darren curse beneath his breath as he continues to look on bewildered, letting out a deep, resigned sigh before turning back into the pub. He looks over and catches my eye, smiling ruefully back as I look on sheepishly, waves of guilt washing over me.

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><p><em><strong>Thank you for reading x<strong>_


	12. Chapter 12

_**PART TWELVE**_

_**Tuesday 15th May**_

_**Craig**_

I ignore the calls of my name from Darren as I slam the door behind me and head straight for my room, much in the same way as I did last night… and the night before that… and the night before that aswell. I'm so wound up, I literally have to stop myself from putting my fist through the wall as I pace up and down. Fucking Spike! Who the hell does that prick think he is trying to stop me from coming up to my own home? Who gave him the right to decide that? He's a twat, one that I came so close to smacking down there just then. If it weren't for Darren coming down when he did then he'd have had his face turned inside out by now. Part of me feels kind of glad that I didn't in the end, John Paul would never have spoken to me ever again if I 'd lashed out with my fists for a second time - it's becoming quite a habit of mine. But then he's never going to speak to me again anyway, is he? And it would have been so worth it to see that idiot get knocked down a peg or three.

God I'd love to know what John Paul see's in him. Seriously, what does he bloody well see in him for fucks sake? He smells of garlic for one, plus he's got a wonky eye if you look really closely - not that I'd recommend looking for too long, don't wanna scar yourself for life do you? He's got a ridiculous name that stings my tongue whenever I'm forced to say it, and don't even get me started on his idiotic voice. Annoying much? John Paul deserves better than him. I mean he deserves better than _me_aswell, but he definitely deserves better than that bell end downstairs.

For a few minutes I allow my hatred of Spock to take over, temporarily forgetting why it is I was so desperate to get passed him in the first place. But then I remember, of course I do… John Paul. I didn't even know he was there until I looked up and saw him staring straight back at me, I'm telling you now my heart stopped for at least a minute in that moment. I never wanted him to see me looking like this, like death warmed up, and I've still not even had a shower after last night. I hope to God he never saw me smoking either, if my piss poor appearance wasn't enough to put him off for life then I'm damn sure the sight of me with a ciggie in my gob would have been. He hates smoking, hell even I hate smoking, but see it's all part of my ever dramatic plan to self-destruct, or at least that's the exaggerated version anyway - although to be fair it's not all that far off from the truth.

He looked great as always, his beautiful blonde hair looking even lighter than it normally does as the sunlight reflected off of it. And his eyes, his gorgeous deep blue eyes, for a few seconds I got the chance to stare into them again and do you know what? I bloody well wish I hadn't stopped looking, that instead of running away like the coward I am I'd stayed and done what I've been daydreaming about doing for months. I should have stood up and walked over to him, covered his warm cheeks with the palms of my hands (his facial cheeks, that is, although his arse cheeks would've been tempting to say the least, if not a little too forward) and pulled him towards me, covering his full lips with my own and pushing my tongue deep into his warm, wet… delicious…

I snap my eyes open, not realising they'd closed of their own accord as once again I'd let myself get lost in the thought of snogging John Paul to within an inch of his life. But instead I'm faced with my shit hole of a room rather than the smooth skin of his face and the oh so perfect… Ok stop it now Craig, your doing it again.

"Argghhh!"

My Spike-sized strop returns with vigour as I huff my way towards the window, just in time to see John Paul turn and walk away. What was he doing here anyway? He wasn't here to see me that's for sure, so we can rule that one out for starters. Maybe he was just passing and wasn't actually going to come in. Or maybe he'd arranged to meet one of his sisters inside or something. Or, err… or… or… oh bloody big hairy fucking bollocks! He was here for round two of tonsil tennis with the spawn of frigging Satan wasn't he?

"Argghhh!"

I don't give myself time to question why it is he's left again without coming in to see that _thing_he calls his other half. I've got better things to be thinking about, like which of Darren's exotic gel's to steal for the shower that I'm in desperate need of. See? Why would I need a best mate anyway when my day's are filled with such exciting drama? Shall I give the Lemon & Honey another outing, or go wild and smother myself in Plum & Poppy Seed?

Christ, the excitement's killing me.

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><p><em><strong>Thank you for reading x<strong>_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Tuesday 15th May**_

_**Spike and Darren**_

_**Part Thirteen**_

"Sorry, it's just...he _was _being an arse" I say, feeling the need to defend myself even though he's not asking me to. In fact, he nods his head in agreement, letting out another sigh of frustration as he drags his hands through his hair. "How've you put up with that for so long anyway? I mean, seriously, he's acting flaming mental". Darren spreads his hands in agreement and rolls his eyes, shaking his head in resignation.

"Welcome to my world mate!" He leans forward on the bar top, spearing his fingers through his hair as he holds his head in his hands. I can't help tilting my head to one side to get a better angle on his arse. What! I'm a gay man, sue me! What's not to like though? I mean, his jeans have pulled dead snug like across his backside and his polo shirt has come un-tucked, exposing a little bit of his lower back, the part just beneath the dip and above the curve that has the fine dusting of golden hairs covering it, not to mention, his arse is swaying slightly while he's leaning over the bar. There's about three different fantasies right there.

He stands suddenly, breaking me from the very nice daydream I was having about my cock meeting his arse and turns to look at me. His grey/blue eyes dart around suspiciously, then he leans in towards me, close enough that I can smell him, inclining his head for me to come nearer. Okay then, he twisted my arm, the one that can feel the hairs on his forearm brush against it when he moves, which he's doing a lot of seeing as he always seems to be restless. Pushing as many of my wayward thoughts to the back of my mind as possible, I tilt my head closer, feeling a couple of strands of blond hair tickle my cheek as his voice lowers to a nice, conspiratorial level.

"Hey, you were right about that diary though, I've just had a quick flick." He cranes his neck and checks around suspiciously, looking back over his shoulder just to make sure no one's listening, then hunches down further and leans in even closer, making the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand on end. "If anything is gonna give me some answers, then it's gonna be that little beaut up there!"

"That's something at least. I didn't almost get my arse kicked by Bambi for nothing." Darren's brows furrow and I can't help laughing. It's not exactly hard to see the resemblance between Craig and the doe eyed Disney character. I flutter my eyelashes, ohh God why did I do that? But he seems to get the reference, silently mouthing 'ahh' and chuckling. Then he gives me a funny look and I feel like a right tool so I stop. "The sooner you find out what the hell's going on, the better if you ask me. It's like he's pushed the self destruct button and he's just waiting for it to go off." Actually, the way he was acting before, he's more like a ticking bomb on the verge of explosion.

"Well fear not!" Darren says quietly, breaking into my thoughts, "Chief Inspector Osborne is well and truly on the case!" He puts on this really daft 'important' voice and pretends to straighten his tie...a tie he isn't wearing, admittedly, but it's still cute. He's laughing at himself but then his eye catches mine and he stops suddenly, coughing awkwardly. Shit! Am I being obvious?

"Sorry." He scratches his head and clears his throat. " I uh...I suppose I should thank you really, I wouldn't have known about that diary if it weren't for you. So err, thanks." He smiles..._awkwardly,_lifting his hand to scratch beneath the collar of his shirt.

"You could always buy me a drink" I blurt out, closing my eyes and shaking my head, turning away for a second when I realise what I just said. When I turn around, Darren's scrubbing at the inside of the sink like his life depends on it. He glances up from the manic scouring, his eyes darting everywhere but at me.

"A... a drink? Err, yeah, yeah I suppose I could... do that, maybe." Hah, he said maybe. Ace.

"Yeah? Cool, it's sorted then...". He finally looks up from the glass, his eyes catching and holding mine for a second or two before darting away. Now that's not what I was expecting. He seems almost...shy? "Aww,...you look cute when you blush" I can't resist saying when I see the flush of pink make it's way up through the top of his collar, coming to land smack dab on his cheeks. John Paul's a blusher but where on him it seemed to highlight his innocence, on Darren it's just down right sexy. I wink at him when he chances another look but then he fumbles the glass he's messing with and almost drops it, the smile that had been on his face disappearing in a matter of seconds. Okay Spikey boy, don't push it too much or you'll scare him off, I tell myself, deciding it's time to back off a bit. After all, he is the boss and I don't want to get done for sexual harassment or anything. Right then, where were we before I bagged myself a date? Oh yeah.

"So it was useful then...enlightening? Any juicy gossip in there or raunchy bits 'cos I'm _all_ears mate" I say, turning the conversation back to Craig's diary, trying to keep it light and ease the thick, heavy tension that seems to have surfaced. I chuckle to myself, trying to imagine what kind of things he's written in there.

Before Darren gets a chance to say anything more, Gina, one of the barmaids, comes in, talking a mile a minute as she takes her coat off and gets comfortable behind the bar. I smile and pass her the glass towel, raising my eyebrows at Darren as I incline my head towards the decks.

"I'd best get set up now then eh...? You can explain that..._thing _when you're sorted here, K?"

He nods his head, his eyes following me as I make my way over to the decks. Smiling to myself, I start setting up, my thoughts diverted between Craig and John Paul and this weird attraction I'm feeling towards Darren. Hmm, interesting...all of it.

* * *

><p>I get finished setting up pretty quickly but the pub's got busier in the last half hour or so Darren's rushed off his feet <em>again. <em>His seven o'clock staff hasn't come in yet and neither has Craig come downstairs so I have to wait for a lull or someone to turn up before we can carry on our conversation from earlier. In the mean time, since Darren confirmed to me that Craig HAS been keeping a diary, I've gone through pretty much every scenario of what he might have read in there. My thoughts have gone from in depth descriptions of how Craig might kill me for being John Paul's boyfriend to vivid accounts of what he'd do to me if he did decide to explore his gay side...I'm sure he's got one, all blokes do really. Call me a perv, I don't care. After seeing Craig get all hot and bothered this afternoon, I seem to have developed another little crush. I don't like him but I'd fuck him, you know? He's got a nice ass and I've got to say, that temper of his is a bloody turn on.

Whatever, I'm allowed to fantasise aren't I? Which takes me back to the diary. I can't help wondering if he writes everything down or if he's one of these factual types, 'cos that's much more boring. I don't think so though. I get the impression he'll be as feisty in his writing as he is when he's arguing. I have to say, I'll be very disappointed if Darren says there's nothing juicy in there at all though, and I'm not talking about Craig/Sarah stuff...please.

I wasn't kidding when I told John Paul last night that I think there's something more going on with Craig and I don't agree with Darren that everything between them is platonic either. I've got a pretty good gay-dar and so far, it hasn't let me down. I mean, I know he'd be upset at losing his friend and so he should, the aggressive little twat, but I reckon if it was just that, he'd have swallowed his pride and sorted things out by now, not let everything drag on as long as it has.

Craig might be a bit of an enigma to me, I only know what I've seen and heard about him but even I know he isn't a quitter. John Paul told me, in one of his never ending one sided conversations about Craig, that his best mate was resitting to get better grades and that he got bullied when he first went back into the sixth form. Did he quit though? No, did he buggery. He just kept bouncing back like a fucking boomerang, sticking to John Paul like he's his conjoined twin or something.

I sound bitter again don't I? Fuck it, there's plenty more fish in the sea.

But yeah, back to Craig and John Paul. I definitely reckon those diary entries'd be an eye opener. There's no way he'd fly off the handle like he did with me unless he's jealous and no matter how much you like your mate, there's no way he'd be that jealous unless he fancies him rotten and wants what I have..._had_, I correct myself. Darren isn't exactly acting like he's just had a great epiphany though. He definitely looks like his mind's on other things, seeing as he's just handed Leo a glass of red wine and some snooty woman a pint but he's not flustering around like I'd expect him to if he'd just read Craig confessing his undying love for his best mate or some elaborate dream he's had where he and John Paul are fucking each others brains out.  
>No he looks, thoughtful, contemplative, definitely not freaking out like I might have expected him to.<p>

Oh shit! He's just caught me staring at him again. I can tell because he's frowning but he's got that curious look back on his face. Crap, he's on his way over. I watch as he rounds the corner of the bar and grabs a couple of drinks from the tray on top. Help must've arrived when I wasn't looking then. Okay Spikey boy, calm the fuck down and act natural.

I follow Darren as he inclines his head towards the empty table behind the decks, sitting down across from him when he takes the seat facing the bar. Then I watch him as he takes a long pull from the bottle of lager and starts shredding one of the beer mats, his brows furrowed in thought as his fingers tear at the cardboard coaster, the stress he's feeling today clearly evident on his face. I know what always helps me easy my tensions.

"You could do with a damn good..." noo! Shut the fuck up. I stop myself, frowning, quickly looking away. I take a sip from my own drink and a deep breath, then lean forward, smiling at him as I remove the scraps of the beer mat from his fingers, careful not to touch him.

"So...what did you find then?" Good, good work., much better. Now all I need to do is push all those other thoughts from my mind and concentrate on what's important...Craig's diary.

"Well nothing concrete as such, I only had the chance to read a couple of pages... I'll tell you what I did find out though." I look at him expectantly, raising my eyebrows in query when he leans forward. "I found out why he doesn't like _you_all that much." Eh?

"Wha...!" I clear my throat, surprised I haven't smashed any glasses as my voice goes as high as a pre-pubescent teenager. How can he not like me, he doesn't even know me. Alright so, after today I get it but before that? "What? What're you talking about, I'm lovely me" I say patting my chest, ignoring Darren when he starts chuckling to himself_._

"Yeah well, you can be as lovely as you like mate, it won't make no difference to Craig. I mean can you blame him after you stole from him like that?"

"You've totally lost me Darren. I never even knew Craig before I started working here and I can bloody well assure you I'm not a thief!" I stand up abruptly, almost knocking the drinks over in my haste to leave, my jaw clenching as I glare down at him sitting there with a sadistic grin on his face. He might be fit but he's acting like a tosser right now. Does _he_ think I've been nicking stuff too?

"Woah, calm down Dorothy, I'm not talking about nicking a pair of under-crackers and a box of jelly beans here. I'm talking about John Paul!" he responds calmly, gesturing for me to sit back down. "Honestly, he never stops banging on about him in that diary, it's all 'John Paul this' and 'John Paul that' and 'John Paul smells like the most beautiful of Spring mornings'... erm, well, you get the idea" he looks rather sheepish as he finishes his little outburst.

"Oh, well yeah, I knew that. You'd have to be a flaming idiot not to see how jealous he is and I'm not talking about my stunning physique and stellar wit for a change...no offense" I add when I see him sit back in his seat and fold his arms, realising I just insulted Darren like crazy seeing as he didn't see it. "So, are you going to elaborate or is that it?"

"Well isn't it obvious? All Craig was bothered about back then was when he was gonna be seeing his mate again, never mind the fact he had a hot bit of arse waiting for him down the road. And then... _then _he started sticking pins into dolls heads when John Paul got it on with that Hannah. Seriously, talk about death-by-diary, poor cow." I snort out loud but try and cover the noise with a cough as an image of Craig springs to mind. I can just picture him as he was before, a raging, sexy little bundle of fury, whacking Hannah over the head with a two inch thick red book. Hmm, yeah, I like that image, she wasn't exactly nice to me. I break out of my reverie and focus my attention back on Darren as he starts speaking again.

"What I'm saying is, if he felt like that about Hannah, can you imagine how he feels about you?" Uh yeah, he hates my guts and wishes me dead. _Great_. "I'm telling you, if he ain't got a cauldron of curses with your name on it brewing up in that room then I shall eat my hat... my pimp daddy cool one, you know the one with the little zebra things and..." he frowns, becoming flustered, his cheeks turning pink beneath my scrutiny. "Anyway, yeah." He quickly grabs his bottle and necks some more of his drink.

"Well that's just flaming fantastic isn't it? Next time I feel pain, I'll know it's because that raging loony up there is having a good old poke". Darren's jaw drops and he starts snickering. "So you'd agree he fancies John Paul then? because there's no way he'd get so worked up over me and Hannah if he just thinks of JP as a mate..._best_mate" I correct myself when Darren gives me that look.

"Hang on, I don't remember reading _that _chapter. I mean yeah he is jealous, but only cos you get to spend loads of time with John Paul and he doesn't. Besides I've already told you, Craig's as straight as a dye, I'd know if he wasn't." I roll my eyes and shake my head in disagreement. "I would know, alright?" he repeats, this time with more vehemence. I carry on shaking my head, this time in sympathy. Poor sod, he really can't see it? Darren finally throws up his hands in surrender, attempting not to let his mouth twist into a grin. "Oh for f... fine, so maybe I did think there might have been something a bit dodgy about it as I was reading, but it doesn't exactly prove anything now does it?" I decide against clasping my hands together in victory and gloating, instead opting for something a little more sincere.

"Thank you. All I'm saying is I think you should keep an open mind. We're not all raving scene queens and cross dressers you know. You might be right though, it doesn't prove anything and he might just miss John Paul's friendship." Darren inclines his head as affirmation. Well, much as I like him and hate to be the one to burst his little bubble, I feel I have no choice. "That wouldn't really explain why he came hurtling back inside like someone stuck a stick of dynamite up his arse." Darren sighs, dragging his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"And in other words..." he stands up and grabs the two empty glasses, "...we're still none the bloody wiser are we?" He curses, looking even more stressed than he looked when I saw him earlier as he heads back over to the bar.

"I think he saw John Paul" I tell him matter of factly, voicing what I've been thinking since I first saw Craig. I take a seat on one of the stools as Darren goes back behind the bar and starts loading glasses into the dishwasher, watching him closely to gauge his reaction. He stops what he's doing and looks at me, raising his brows in question. "Yeah" I continue, nodding in response to his none verbal query, "he came absolutely flying back in like he was being chased by a gonad eating bear" I tell him, watching his eyes widen, "he almost broke his bleeding neck, he was running that fast" I elaborate, getting a bit of a kick out of seeing the surprise on Darren's face. "There's only one thing I can think of that might have provoked that kind of reaction and that's him coming face to face with John Paul" I finish, pointing out what, to me, is screaming out more than an albino with sunburn.

"Well I suppose that would explain why he was desperate to get passed you then" he says, mulling it over. "Do you think I should check up on him, make sure he's alright?" he asks, sounding concerned. I'm just about to say he might be best leaving Craig to cool down a while longer when he changes his tune. "Having said that, there's every chance he's writing in that diary of his as we speak. I can't afford to miss out on an installment like that so, best we leave him to it, eh?" He winks at me, nodding his affirmation to himself as he goes to serve another customer.

"You're all heart, anyone ever tell you that?" I call out teasingly. He tosses his head to the side and grins in agreement. I think about what Darren said about Craig being desperate to pass me. It makes sense. If he is jealous, for whatever reason, he's hardly going to want to be around the guy that nabbed the best friend he had. When Darren comes back from serving and starts faffing with more glasses, I tell him.

"You probably are right...about that being why he hates my guts and it would explain why he was such a hot...uh, hot tempered little fucker earlier". Shit, that obvious huh? I can see Darren eyeing me up suspiciously. Best change the direction this is going then. "So, what are you going to do then? You can't exactly tell Craig you've been doing a Miss Marple and snooping through his diary. The way he was today, he'd be eating your balls for breakfast" I say maybe a bit too graphically because he winces, his hand automatically going to the front of his jeans in sympathy. He soon realises what he's doing and looks back at me, rolling his eyes.

"Well I'm not gonna do _anything_ yet am I? I need to read me some more of that diary first." I raise my eyebrows at that, snickering lightly to myself when he shrugs. "Uh, before you say it, I know it's not exactly _fair _on him and all that. But he has been driving us all around the bend for months, so I think under the circumstances this is the least he owes us." He looks away then, ignoring the reproving looks I throw his way, raising his eyebrows back at me as if to say 'what?' when he sees me shaking my head. I've got to laugh.

"Gotta say Darren, I love the way you justify that" I say between sniggers, noting the sheepish expression coming into play on his face. "I can just imagine you explaining it to him now ...'I read your diary Craig but I was worried about you, sorry 'bout that, besides, you've been acting like a complete basket case and I fancied a laugh'. Smooth, _real_ smooth." He frowns, rolling his eyes at the sarcasm.

"Oh you reckon? And how do you think he'll take it when I tell him 'Oooh by the way, it was all that Spike's idea to go rooting around in your privates Craig, I never would have done it had it not been for him insisting upon it'..." I snort at the ridiculous voice he uses but he's got a point. Seeing the mood Craig was in today, I wouldn't really relish being on the end of it again. Darren snaps his fingers and points at me, waggling his finger in my face when he sees the trepidation there.

"Yeah, exactly! So if I get caught doing this then I am bringing you right down with me mate" he says, leaning in so close that I can smell his aftershave again. nice. "Now THAT is what you call smooth" he finishes, grinning and flashing his eyebrows at me in what I'd class as a flirtatious manner as he takes hold of the empty glass in front of me and starts making his way over to the bar. I sit there stunned for a second, letting the butterflies going berserk in my stomach calm down before heading over to join him.

He looks at me expectantly as I make my way over, the smug expression on his face vanishing as I come to stand in front of him. I feel nervous but I can't let that one slip by, I just can't. Come on Spike, since when has flirting ever been so difficult? I clear my throat, then look at him intently, my head cocked to one side and my eyes narrowing as they lock on his.

"So if you're going down, I'm going down with you then? Sounds good enough to me" I say, punctuating my words with a salacious grin. Darren's eyes widen and his jaw drops perceptibly. Booya! I chuckle as he fumbles with the glass he's holding and quickly puts it on the bar before he drops it. Cute, totally fucking cute.

"I didn't mean down... I... well I _did_ mean down, but not _down_ down. I mean, err..." I cringe for him internally as he coughs nervously, then laughs to cover it. "I err... sorry, what?" I raise my eyebrows as he blatantly changes tack and pretends he hasn't a clue what I'm referring to but I see through his feigned innocent routine. He clears his throat then and turns his back for a second, glancing over his shoulder at me, looking away hastily again.

"What? What did you think I meant?" Oh God, this is so funny. He tenses up, his eyes flicking between me and the floor when he turns back around. Then I have to stop myself cracking up when he edges backwards so his bum's resting against the bottle fridge door, the towel he's holding dangling strategically right in front of the zip fly of his jeans. Oops. I think maybe I'd best leave him alone for a bit or he'll turn into a quivering wreck right before my eyes. It is amusing seeing him like this though and, kind of exciting too.

"So does that make me Watson to your Sherlock then? Cool". I decide to change the subject now before he does a runner upstairs to join Craig because the last thing I want is for him to disappear as well leaving just me and Gina to run the place. He smiles then, genuinely, the relief he's feeling etched across his face. Still, as I sit there watching him work, serving customers, sipping at the fresh glass of Coke he hands me, I can't help noticing the covert glances he sends my way. Maybe it's not such a lost cause after all. When it's just me and him at the bar again, he rests his head in his hands, his fingers ploughing through his hair as he sighs deeply.

"What've you got in mind then?" He looks at me in exasperation and groans. "What? I mean, are you going to see what the diary says and see if he'll talk to you or try and get him and John Paul talking or what? 'Cos it seems to me that's the root of the problem here".

"Oh does it really? Well that's a comfort to know, gee _thanks _Watson! Now why didn't I think of that eh?" I sit back smiling at him ruefully, waiting for the sarcastic little tantrum he's having to subside. When he's finished venting his frustrations on me, he heaves a sigh, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head dramatically. "Look, I don't know yet, I didn't even know the bloody thing existed 'til ten minutes back" he says resignedly. I don't say anything but as I watch him, I can almost see the cogs turning in his brain. Then it's like he gets this renewed confidence because he lifts his eyes to mine, a determined smile on his face.

"What I do know is that if there's anything in that diary that'll get those pair of idiots talking again, then I'm gonna damn well find it. And when I do, that tit upstairs can bloody well look out!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thank you for reading x<strong>_


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey, so this is another chapter from me, hope it's okay as I haven't really written much with this character before.**

_**Tuesday 15th May**_

_**Jacqui and Darren**_

_**Part Fourteen**_

"John Paul!" As I'm leaving Drive 'n' Buy, I see my brother sitting alone, over by the fountain, so I call out his name and make my way over. He doesn't look up, he doesn't even acknowledge me, apparently too deep in though to even hear me when I call his name a second time. Taking the last two steps towards him, I watch as he pulls the little white petals from the weed in his hand, hearing his sigh as he lets them flutter forlornly to the ground.

"You feeling any better tonight love?" I'm literally standing right in front of him but my presence still startles him, making him drop the remnants of the flower to the ground.

"Huh? Oh Jacq, it's you. I was just..." he waves his hand around vaguely, tearing up another daisy from the grass between his feet.

"Thinking?" I plonk the bags down and turn to sit beside him, adjusting myself to get as comfy as I can on the cold, stone bench.

"Yeah" he nods his head, twirling the stem of the daisy between his fingertips before lifting it to his nose to smell it.

"What're you thinking about?" He turns his head towards me and shrugs, his sad eyes meeting mine for a second before dropping back to the flower in his hand, one of those wry, half smiles of his appearing on his face.

"That bad eh?" He glances at me again, this time raising his brows along with the shrug. Bloody hell, this is painful. "Wanna tell me about it?" I ask, giving him a nudge, tilting my head so I can look up at his face.

"Not really" he murmurs, attempting another smile. I bob my head. There's nothing else I can do really, not if he doesn't want to talk about it. Still, I don't leave. I just continue to sit there in contemplative silence until he suddenly stands up and brushes himself off.

"I'll...I'll see you later." He starts to walk away, his shoulders slumping even further when he digs his hands into his pockets.

"Hey!" I run after him...well not exactly 'run', seeing as I am wearing my heels and carrying two bags of shopping but I go after him as quickly as I can, hoping he'll just stay there and wait. "Are you not coming home? I've got a box of Black Magic and a bottle of Lambrusco...I'll share it with you?" I offer in my most persuasive voice, shaking the carrier bags at him, trying to tempt him.

"Cheers Jacq but I'm just gonna..." he inclines his head in the direction he was walking, back towards the park.

"Oh! Right well...the offers open if you change your mind."

"Thanks I'll...I'll see you later. Tell mum I'll be back in a bit will you?"

"Yeah...yeah course I will" he smiles his thanks at me but as usual, it doesn't reach his eyes. Dropping one of the bags...thankfully not the one with the bottle of wine, I reach out to him, grasping his arm before he can walk away.

"You'll find another bloke John Paul" I assure him when I see the scepticism in his eyes, "you _will_. You'll find someone who appreciates what a wonderful boy you are" I tell him, feeling a bit embarrassed for him when he starts blushing. It's true though, I bet there're loads of lads out there who'd be grateful to have someone like our John Paul as their boyfriend. Goodness knows what Spike was thinking letting a great catch like my little brother get away from him. Seeing him so dejected, I tell him so.

"No Jacq, he's...he's a good bloke" he says, lifting his hand to his lips where he starts gnawing at his thumb nail. He looks at me imploring, his eyes practically begging me to drop the subject completely. "It's not his fault alright, just...just leave it...please." Something in his tone and the way he looks like he'll burst into tears at any minute, convinces me to leave it be. I suppose this is neither the time nor the place to have this chat with him anyway. Maybe I can convince our Tina to sit him down later and have a little heart to heart with him. That's so much more her territory than it is mine.

"Alright...okay" I say, holding my hands up in surrender, feeling a little better when I see him visibly relax. "Just remember, there's plenty more Spike's in the sea and all that" I remind him with a wink. He frowns and rolls his eyes at my lame joke but I can finally see a little laughter in his eyes, even if it does only last a second or two.

"Spike's..." he laughs sardonically, "yeah, plenty of those." He hesitates, opening his mouth like he's going to say something but then changing his mind and closing it again. Then he lifts the bag up, peers inside it and passes it back to me with a sigh. "See you in a bit Jacq...and save me the caramels!" he calls out as he heads off across the village. I watch him leave, sadness for my little brother welling up inside me when I see his hands go deep into his pockets, his shoulders slumping once more as he makes his way beneath the bridge.

Pity that, I could've done with a bit of help carrying the bags back home. Ohh well, at least I've got those chocolates and the wine to look forward to.

"Right then." Muttering beneath my breath, I turn on my heels and start walking. I haven't gone more than fifty metres or so when I hear my name being called.

"Jacqui!" Urgh, what does that slick dick want? Just the sound of his voice makes me want to wash in mud so I'll feel cleaner. Maybe if I ignore him he'll go away. My stride doesn't falter as I continue walking back past the shops towards The Loft. I might be wearing a pair of killer heels but I'll be damned if that's gonna stop me out pacing him.

"Alright?" Crap. I might be fast but he's faster. I can hear his breathing get harsher as he jogs his way over.

"Oh, it's you...whadda ya want?" I fix a smile on my face as I turn my head to look at him, though I think it comes off as more of a grimace because he actually appears a little offended. Oh well, maybe he'll take the hint and do one. No such luck it seems as he continues to stand there, one of those shit eating grins of his plastered on his face. May as well get this over with. He's probably just angling for me to put in a good word with Carmel or something anyway. Now _that_ would be a match made in hell.

I continue to stare him down, narrowing my eyes as I try to figure out what he wants, arching one of my eyebrows as I hold his gaze, completely psyching him out. He clears his throat and tugs on the lapel of his jacket, getting my hopes up that he might bolt for a second but then his demeanour changes, becoming self assured again as he flicks his head back, swishing the hair from his face. He leans forward then, almost knocking me out with the potency of his cologne.

"I never said I wanted anything. Is it a crime for me to approach such a fine looking woman such as yourself?" Oh dear. I can't help snorting with laughter as he reduces his tone an octave or two, his voice practically dripping with syrup it's that sickly. He takes a step back then, allowing me to breath clear air for a second, still trying to butter me up by raising his eyebrows in that 'come hither' look he seems to be trying to perfect.

"Does that crap _actually work_?" I ask incredulously. That gets rid of Mr 'Up his own arse' right away, the leer he's perfected vanishing in seconds. "Right, fine, you've approached me. Now maybe you can take your flash and go blind someone else."

"Well maybe I will then! Or maybe, I could make you an offer you can't refuse. Eh? Eh?" I throw him a really dirty look, stepping out of his way after getting elbowed in the ribs a few times. Jesus, this guy just isn't for giving up is he? "How does that tickle your pickle then?". Tickle my...what on earth? He continues grinning back at me inanely, once more ignoring the death glare I'm shooting him as he gives me another nudge followed by a wink. Talk about bold as brass.

"Oh..my..God, get the hell away from me" I think I actually sound like a thirteen year old boy during puberty at that point because my voice gets so high. I hold my hands up, the bags dangling from my thumbs, and start to back away. "Now did you actually want something or can I go home...preferably unmolested". He keeps walking beside me like an eager puppy trying to please his master so I'm assuming he actually _does _have something to say. Whether or not it's of any relevance is still to be determined.

"Right, whatever" he says, appearing to be completely un-purturbed by my cocky attitude, "anyway, what if I were to tell you that I had uncovered something so monumentally massive, that it could quite possibly blow the entire world off it's axis. Now what would you say to _that_?" he asks, looking at me eagerly.

"You've found out how they get off the Island in Lost?" I say a bit goofily, trying to give him a reprieve. It doesn't work though as the reference goes completely over Bling Boys head. Clearly the glorified barman either doesn't watch prime time American television or he's so caught up in this little adventure he has going on in his head that he simply isn't aware of anything else. Rolling my eyes and shaking my head I stop walking and turn to look back over my shoulder at him. "Well if it's not that, enlighten me" I call out sarcastically, inclining my head to indicate he should continue walking with me. I may as well find out what the hell he's going on about. He jogs over to catch me up and slides his hands against mine, keeping hold of the carrier bags when I yank mine away. He chuckles to himself, arching his eyebrows, raising the bags in the air to show he's just trying to help. The nod I give him is barely perceptible but he sees the unspoken thanks and takes the hint, continuing to walk beside me in the direction of home.

"Okay, were you aware, right, that your John Paul keeps a diary?" I snort. I know, it's very unladylike of me but I perfected the noise so I wouldn't have to speak when I find things ridiculous. _This_, is one of those times. John Paul, football playing, music loving, part time DJ, writing a diary...yeah right. My snort and the roll of my eyes doesn't phase Darren as he keeps yammering on.

"And when I say diary, I mean one of those books that people write all their feelings down in. Like when they've been to the zoo for the day, or when they've baked a cake, or when they've fallen in love with their straight best mate and completely blown their whole entire friendship apart because said best mate doesn't in the slightest feel the same way that they do... just for example, obviously" he says, finally stopping to take a breath. "Can you see where I'm going with this?" he asks, taking a step in front of me and turning, looking at me expectantly.

"Have you been smoking crack?" What's he even on about? Why is he banging on about diaries? Does he think John Paul's got one? And what's with the baking obsession. The only person in our house who's even attempted to make any cakes in the last few weeks is Carmel and that was a disaster. As for the other thing, now he's just confusing me.

"Uh, first off, stop being a cheeky git. Course I know what a diary is. Just because I don't own a fancy pub and walk around all day like I'm better than everyone else, doesn't mean I ain't educated, alright? I finished school" he actually looks a bit sheepish when I say that and so he should, he doesn't know me from Adam. We haven't all had more privileged upbringings like his lot.

"Oh and our John Paul does _no t_own a diary" I say matter of fact, remembering what he'd actually been getting at.

"Ahh, now that is where you are wrong me lady" he says with a touch of the dramatic about it. Amateur dramatic but still, he's clearly getting excited about...well, whatever the hell it is that's got him going. He continues talking but now he's walking backwards and swinging a shopping bag in each hand, watching my reaction the whole time.

"See I thought the exact same thing about Craig when I found out he had one as well, I said to myself I said Darren, there is no way that Craig would write a diary. But you know what? I went into that room and there it was, snug as a bug underneath his pillow. Turns out the school have got the whole lot of 'em writing their thoughts down, part of some big social analytical experiment or something or other. How mint is that, eh?"

I stop dead in my tracks, frowning, wondering how he knows this and, more importantly, why he's telling me.

"You think our John Paul's writing in this diary? Why?" He nods but doesn't reply, just backs himself up to lean against a stone wall surrounding the garden of a boarded up house. "Okay then, what if he is? what's it got to do with you anyway?" I don't give him chance to answer, I just launch into my sister defending mode that I seem to be perfecting. "Look, I might not be Craig's biggest fan, in fact if he was a bug I'd squash him for what he did to my brother but reading his diary?" I look at Darren and shake my head reprovingly, "that's low even for a sister pimping, musical loving, Billy no mates like you."

"Have you quite finished?" Darren asks, rolling his eyes and shaking his head at me, like I don't have a clue. "Err, I'll have you know I had a perfectly good reason for reading that diary thank you very much. That kid has been driving me insane for far too long, he practically owed me a read of that little treasure cove of info." I start laughing. Genuinely too. I just can't believe Darren's justifying reading his kid brother's diary because the lad's been getting under his skin. He sighs, apparently put out that I find his underhand tactics funny. Then he becomes even more serious.

"You can't tell me you're not interested in finding out why John Paul is so depressed these days, surely?" he says quietly. He shifts against the wall, lifting his eyes to meet mine. Shit! If it was anyone else, I'd probably let it wash right over me but this is Darren, the guy who makes jokes about practically everything and he's not laughing now. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen him look so serious about anything and because of that, I can't help the sick feeling that starts attacking me.

"You think he's...you noticed that too?" I ask, suddenly subdued, fear stabbing through me for John Paul when Darren starts nodding emphatically.

"Oh definitely, _definitely_!" I frown at him and then glare until he calms down, the stupid prat not exactly endearing himself to me by getting all excited over my brothers sadness. He puts the carrier bags on the pavement between his feet leaving his hands free to gesticulate.

"He's lost his best mate for starters, and now he's finished with his fella... the guy must be borderline suicidal by now. I mean who knows what he could no next?" He sounds really concerned, 'maybe a bit _too _concerned', I can't help thinking and he's waving his hands around as he explains enthusiastically, almost taking my eyes out. Still, I have to admit that he's right about John Paul being down recently. I want to ask how he knows about my brother and Spike because I can't see John Paul talking about that kind of thing, with Darren especially. Saying that, Darren seems to be focusing more on Craig, like he's got _anything _to do with this.

"Honestly Jacqui, I really think you should find out what's going on here. Have a look at that diary, it's for the sake of your brother's well-being after all." I swear he's got a thing for this diary he thinks John Paul has and now his behaviour's really puzzling me too. He sounds sincere but he's changing personalities so fast, I'm starting to wonder which is the real Darren. One minute it's like he's enjoying giving his thoughts on a soap opera and the next, he seems to genuinely care. Still, he is right about John Paul and the way he's been acting. I don't want that on my conscience.

"Right...right yeah" I start trying to think if there's been a time that I've seen John Paul carrying or writing in anything that could be classed as a diary but I come up with nothing. It's only when Darren starts fidgeting restlessly beside me that I go back to what he's been saying and, boy does it piss me off. "Uh, hang on. He didn't 'lose' his best mate, as you like to call it. That little sod beat the living daylights out of our John Paul. He's well rid of him and probably glad of it".

"Oh come off it, he's as miserable as our Craig is... and you and me both know why, so you can stop right there love, cos the moral high ground tactic ain't gonna wash."

"No way is..."

"Whether or not you'd rather see Craig strung up by his King Edward's is neither here nor there, cos the fact is those two should've made up a long time ago. If they had then none of this would be happening now, and whether you help me or not, I am going to make that happen. Now, are you in or are you in?" It's like listening to one of those 'party political broadcasts' listening to this guy. I can't get a word in edgewise.

"In or out with what?" I ask. He's obviously hell bent on getting John Paul and Craig talking again, just 'cos his little brother's falling to pieces but he hasn't actually said what the hell his intentions are. Why does it have to involve John Paul at all? He's too cut up about him and Spike breaking up to care about Craig, surely?

"You would say that wouldn't you? I've seen him, your Craig, moping around like he's lost the best thing that ever happened to him. You know why? Because he _HAS _lost the best thing that ever happened to him and he's no one to blame but himself. As far as I'm concerned, it serves the little prick right he lost John Paul, he deserves it. What?" Darren's looking at me like a gormless fish, his chin practically dragging on the pavement, his eyes bugging out of his head. "Our John Paul didn't do anything wrong" I continue, seeing as I've finally rendered Darren speechless, "he just told his mate he was gay and got queer bashed for it."

"He didn't just tell Craig he was gay though, did he? He planted a great big smacker on his lips an'all, or were you not aware of that little gem? How the hell would you react if some random lezza walked up to you and rammed her tongue down your throat, eh?"

"What? What's that got...?" Darren cuts me off with a wave of his hand and jumps away from the wall to face me.

"I'll tell you what you would've done. You'd have smacked her round the chops and sent her packing back to the CLA!" What the fuck is the..."Carpet Lickers Anonymous" he explains when he sees my confusion. " Anyway all I'm saying is, it was a spur of the moment thing, he acted on impulse. It don't mean that he hasn't regretted doing it ever bloody since does it? And who the hell are you to talk anyway? There ain't no-one round here as handy with their fists as you!" Oh now he's really trying to push my buttons.

"You wanna be careful love, I am handy with me fists" I tell him menacingly, laughing my head off when he looks like he might pee himself. "I've been in prison remember, you'd be surprised just what the lezza's get up to in there" I say suggestively, getting a kick out of watching the unflappable Darren Osbourne squirm.

"As for that kiss, _everyone _found out about that remember, or did it slip your mind that it was thanks to that little gem that John Paul was outed to the whole school?" I'm not laughing anymore. It still infuriates me the way the news travelled like wildfire and John Paul had to bear the brunt of it. "Where was precious Craig then eh? Backing his mate up or too busy covering his own arse to everyone to see what John Paul was going through?" I challenge, pleased to see Darren looking just a little bit guilty on behalf of his step brother. I'm not stupid, I know Darren would've been as bad as the rest of em if he'd had chance. "Still, it's nice John Paul's little bum chum regrets smacking him one, serves him right that he has no best mate now though. I'd rather be planted with a kiss than a fist, no matter who's dishing it out".

"Oh will you just put a bleeding sock in it already!" He blasts out, his eyes widening when he realises the whole street probably heard him. "Sorry. Seriously though, what is the point in going over all this stuff that happened months ago when instead, we could be discussing the here and now? It doesn't matter how you feel about Craig, it's how John Paul feels that matters, surely? Don't you wanna see your brother happy again?"

Something he's saying and the way in which he says it sounds really sincere, more so than I've ever heard him talk about anything. Maybe he's right. Perhaps I should try and focus more on what John Paul might want than what I think is best for him. Still, taking advice from this idiot. It seems a bit drastic, not to mention gullible on my part. All right so, he says he wants to help Craig out because he's been acting weird or whatever and he reckons this is down to him and John Paul falling out somehow, fine, whatever. It still doesn't necessarily convince me that John Paul feels the same way.

He's got reasons to feel down. First being outed at school, then having to put up with all their shit at the same time as coming to terms with realising he is gay, then...yeah, alright, losing his best mate and now splitting up with Spike. He's got lots of reasons besides Craig for being a bit depressed.

"You _really _think all this is about them not being friends?" I ask Darren. He nods his head, his expression, for once, completely serious and devoid of humour.

"I _know _it is. Now are you gonna help me out with this or what?" He raises his eyebrows, his blue/grey eyes imploring me to agree.

"By 'help you out', you mean seeing if he's got a diary?"

"I already know he's got a diary, they all have. All I need you to do is find it and see what it says, see if there's anything in there that could help us get thing's patched up between them." Again he's being sincere but still, this _is_Darren.

"Wait...this isn't some perverted little scheme you've dreamt up to get me talking to you, is it?" I ask suspiciously, some of the rumours I've heard about him creeping back.

"Pfft, as if! Get a grip of yourself woman..." I shoot him a death glare, " no offence" he says, quickly backing down. "Look, if you go through John Paul's diary and I go through Craig's, then with a bit of luck we'll have 'em back to being best buds in no time and we will _finally_ be rid of those miserable sodding faces of theirs. It's win win!"

He does seem to genuinely want this outcome he's talking about, though I do still think a part of it is that he just wants to justify reading his step brothers diary, using this as his guilt free reasoning. The idea of reading John Paul's diary, if he even has one, doesn't sit well with me at all but right now, the thought of seeing my brother genuinely smiling for once tips the scales in Darren's favour.

"Alright, okay..._alright_, I'll see but I'm not promising anything and if I think, even for a second that he wants Craig to stay out of his life, that's it, you back off, you understand?" Darren starts grinning, punching the air like a loon, again, making me think he really is taking this seriously.

"And just for the record, I'm not happy about snooping into his private life. He's had enough people sticking their noses in these last few months. He doesn't need his family doing it as well...this is a one off, just to see" I explain, "and I'm not going to be reading bits out to you either" I tell him, narrowing my eyes suspiciously when his face becomes crestfallen. "I will do it though" I reiterate, seeing as he's forgotten that point.

"Oh you beauty!" I blink a couple of times when he slaps his hands against my cheeks and proceeds to plant a great big resounding smacker on my forehead, backing off when he feels me tense up, prison life still ingrained in me I guess. "Sorry, I mean... I was just, err... I was... oh God, please don't hit me." If it wasn't for the fact I prefer him a safe distance away, I'd almost feel guilty that he looks so scared.

"Are you sure you're not one of those weird stalker blokes?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him, giving him the once over. Not actually a bad package if he keeps his mouth shut. I roll my eyes and set off walking again, inclining my head for him to carry on fetching the shopping.

"I'm kidding you daft sod, I do have a sense of humour you know. Besides, if you tried anything on, I'd send Big Bertha round, she likes scrawny blokes like you...eats em up for breakfast she does". Oh God, this is more fun than I've had in days.

"Ha ha, you should see your face, I'm _kidding_." Darren looks at me suspiciously, then when he sees me smiling, he starts to relax. "Well I'm not but hopefully that won't be a problem will it? Now then, what's your plan? 'Cos I assume you've got something in mind". That's it, that's all it takes. He proceeds to fill me in on how he sees things going, pretty much talking my ear off all the way home.

Thank fuck for that Lambrusco!

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><p><em><strong>Thank you for reading x<strong>_


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey, sorry for the delay in posting. To make it up to you, here's a whole bunch of chapters. **

**HAPPY NEW YEAR xx**

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><p><em><strong>Tuesday 15th May<strong>_

_**Jacqui**_

_**Part Fifteen**_

I shouldn't be doing this, it's wrong. I know, me an ex con, banged up for assault and shoplifting, married to an illegal to pay off a debt, talking about wrong, but it is. It wouldn't be so bad if it was our Mercede's or Michaela or Carmel even but this is John Paul I'm doing this to. My little brother, our families golden boy, maybe the person closest to me I actually feel I can sometimes talk to. He's never done anything to harm me or hurt me or make me feel shit about myself in his entire life so, why am I doing this?

Simple really. After talking to Darren and hearing what he had to say, I don't really feel like I've got much choice. Not if I want to help John Paul anyway.

If what Darren said is true and there is more to this whole Craig thing than John Paul just getting beat up by his best mate and them falling out with each other, then I need to know. He's done enough to support me through all the messes I've been in...keeping my reason for marrying Alek a secret, writing to me in prison, heck, just last week he went in my handbag and put a top back on the rack in Next because he saw security watching. Not to mention trying to cover for me, Carmel and Alek last week when the truth came out. The least I can do is try and help him sort himself out, even if he doesn't want me to. Yes, he's made it pretty clear that this is his business and he wants me to butt out or at least, not get involved but I can't sit back and watch him be miserable for another three months, it'd kill me.

What on earth would make Darren think John Paul was keeping a diary though? Alright, my brother isn't stupid and he wrote to me at least once a month in prison, the only one besides Tina who did but I can't see him taking the time out to write any old nonsense in a book. If he decided to keep a diary, surely it'd be more like him to write it on his laptop or even more likely, do one of those video diary things. He's not our Tina.

I hesitate with my hand on the door handle, debating whether or not to enter. He's not been himself, that much is obvious and I'll admit that he's been withdrawn and subdued for months but I put it down to him being outed and having to deal with all the homophobic bullshit thrown at him though, not anything to do with Craig. I can understand how having your best mate punch you and act like a dick towards you could make you angry but that doesn't explain why he's been acting out of character for so long. After last night, seeing him so upset and confused after his split with Spike but him behaving like he's okay about that, I can't help thinking maybe Darren right and there is more going on than I first thought.

All that stuff Darren was saying about John Paul kissing Craig and telling him he loves him though...

What if his moodiness and unwillingness to talk is about Craig? That'd explain why he was so reluctant to open up after the fight and would explain why he threatened us all when we wanted to have it out with the little toe-rag. God, I'd wanted to march right round there and sock him one, see how he liked getting a busted lip but John Paul had literally held me back, pulling me away from the door, pleading with me not to do anything and begging me to calm down. I couldn't understand at the time why he wanted his so called best mate to get away with hurting him like that and I still can't now. Our John Paul's a fighter. He might not go looking for trouble but he doesn't usually back down from a fight either. He's fiercely loyal to the people closest to him but that still wouldn't explain why he just let Craig get away with hitting him instead of sticking up for himself and retaliating.

I have to admit, I half expected to see Craig back round at our house a couple of days later, the pair of them having made up after whatever the hell went down but he didn't and after the first few days, it was like John Paul just accepted that. Thinking about it, he'd seemed defeated, like he'd lost his spark and had given up on life in general, barely cracking a smile on the odd occasion he actually left his room. He'd holed himself up like a recluse, the silence from inside, broken now and then by the muffled sounds of his punch bag as he gave it a good pounding. He was like that for days, a shadow of his former self, refusing to go to school and moping around the house, his mood swinging from surly to ambivalent depending on how long you left him before trying to talk.

Then it was like things changed and he got it in his head he wasn't going to give up, decided to face everything head on instead, holding his head high and standing proud as he left the house one morning to go back to school and confront the prejudice little sods that'd been making his life a misery. I could see how difficult that was for him but he did it anyway and after a while, things died down a bit and people left him alone, except his friends who started appearing again, all except Craig.

It's only when I think of what he was like before he came out and what he's been like since then that I realise something about last night...he had that sparkle back in his eye, regardless of how upset or confused he'd seemed to be.

With that thought in mind, I twist the handle and push my way inside, adding breaking and entering to my ever growing list of crimes and misdemeanour's as I make my way into his bedroom.

Right then, I'm a teenage lad, where would I keep a diary? I glance over his collection of cds and dvds, quickly dismissing that as a likely hiding place due to the fact Michaela's always sneaking into his room to borrow things. Then I ransack the chest of drawers in case he's hidden it in with his socks and underwear but again, nothing. Standing there, hands on hips, I survey the rest of the room, then go about turning it over so meticulously, a jewel thief would be impressed.

I don't find the diary beneath his mattress...though I do find a couple of Attitude magazines and it isn't beneath his bed either which is pretty tidy for a teenage lad. I look in the drawer beneath his desk and flick through each of the untitled books stacked on top of it, as I have no idea what the diary looks like. Then I check through the various shelves in the red locker standing next to his bed, getting frustrated when I still find nothing. I'm running out of options when my gaze lands on the open cubbyhole of his bedside table and the labelled files it contains. I suppose they're thick enough to hide a diary inside.

Listening out, making sure it's still just me in the house, I make my way around to the other side of the bed and crouch down, reading the labels...College stuff...Tracks and Playlists...Ireland...Soccer Camp USA. Taking each folder out, one at a time, I flick through the contents inside. The first two are pretty self explanatory, one file holding pamphlets for colleges, application forms and envelopes with letter headed papers and then various postcards with club DJ promotions on them and set lists that John Paul has compiled in the other. Putting it back, I open the 'Ireland' one, surprised to see it filled to capacity with tourist information brochures for places to stay and visit, mainly in and around Dublin. There's also one of the classy looking, glossy brochures for Trinity University, the pages worn and dog-eared from hours of reading. Carefully placing the file back next to the others, I take out the last one.

Sitting on the edge of John Paul's bed, resting his file in my lap, I feel a knot of sadness start to build inside my chest as I look down at it. Soccer Camp USA is written on the front as well as the side of the file in John Paul's neatest handwriting, the thick, pale blue folder covered in my brothers familiar looking drawings. I've seen doodles like these many times before...adorning his books, left on the block of paper next to the phone, even drawn around advertisements in the Yellow Pages. They usually make me smile but, not today. I can't help tracing my finger over a small, unblemished cartoon drawing in the top corner of the file, taking in the still characterisation I see of the two stick boys, the one with darkly pencilled in hair holding a football. I can feel tears welling in my eyes and I dash them away before they can fall, the ache in my chest growing tighter as my eyes leave that one, untainted picture to rest on the others, each one blackened out, the lighter haired boys identity all but eradicated with angry looking scribbles. What makes it worse is that there's a new image of a girl in each of the drawings, her long, dark hair falling straight down her back.

"Oh God John Paul". Shaking my head, wiping at my wet cheeks, I can't help remembering him talking incessantly about going to America with Craig in the weeks leading up to Christmas but then, back in January, his chatter suddenly stopped and now, looking at this folder, I'm beginning to understand why. Maybe I'm as much of a glutton for punishment as my brother is because I take a quick peak, closing the flap back down in finality as soon as I see the shreds of the ripped and torn leaflets and forms inside.

I'm beginning to form my own opinion of what might have happened between Craig and my brother but to get the answers I'm really looking for, I still need to find that blasted diary of his. Why couldn't Darren have just come right out and said what he was getting at, instead of of talking all cryptic? He was making out like John Paul has done something wrong by Craig and that them falling out was both their faults but as far as I can see, John Paul just had a little crush, that's all, it was Craig that went all Amir Khan on John Paul, not the other way around.

Okay so, yeah, he shouldn't have kissed Craig, that much is obvious but it doesn't explain why Darren seems to think Craig smacking him one was justified. Our John Paul's the one that got hurt and had to face everyone without his mate by his side, why should I feel sorry for Craig?

Placing the file carefully back in it's rightful position, I try to push away the mental picture I have of John Paul, clinging hold of his pillow night after night and sobbing into it, as I think where else the diary could be. An idea comes to me as I sit there and I glance down beside me on the neatly made bed, holding my breath as I slide my hand beneath his blue, starry pillow. A fission of anticipation slams against my rib cage when my fingers come into contact with something hard and solid, nervous excitement bubbling up inside as I pull out the dark red, hard-backed, A5 sized notebook.

This is it. It has to be. Unless my little brother's decided to take up writing Sawyer/Jack fanfic or finally put his little drawings in a book, this has to be his diary. I turn it over in my hands but there's nothing written on the surface to indicate what kind of book it is, let alone what kind of contents are inside. Looking down, I see my hands shaking as my heart starts pounding faster with a mixture of guilt and curiosity. Closing my eyes, I mentally tell myself that I'm doing this to help John Paul, that particular thought and the image of him looking so sad and forlorn last night, easing my guilty conscience enough to follow through.

Opening the hard cover and turning over the first few pages, I'm surprised to see there's nothing there, relief coursing through me for a split second before I realise the thick line that marks the top of the page is at the bottom and I'm holding the book upside down and therefore, back to front. Turning it over, feeling the same trepidation take a hold of me again, I open it up, this time smiling to myself when I turn the first page and see John Paul's familiar scrawl, in black ink, on the second page of the book.

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><p><em><strong>September 5th 2006<strong>_

_English literature diary._

_John Paul McQueen._

_Hello diary! Apparently writing a diary helps our creative flow so Miss Archer has given us the assignment to keep one. Woo! She's already said she's not going to check or read them, she just wants us to 'write what we feel and express our emotions' or some such bollocks, so it's not like she'd know if I didn't bother but I thought I'd give it a go._

_What to write then? I saw this new lad at school today. Craig Dean. The name suits him, I like it. I say he's new, he's not...he's been at this school longer than I have but he's re sitting a year so he's new to us at least. He seems different to everyone else. Most people here try to get noticed one way or another but it's like he was trying to make himself invisible by keeping his head down or something. Thing is, him acting like that, it pretty much drew attention his way anyway so his trying to blend in made him stick out like a sore thumb, to me at least._

_He doesn't look like the loner type but he didn't seem to have any friends either. Me, I'm happy listening to my music, coasting through and just getting this year done. I'm not bothered about making friends with this lot anyway. Another year and that's it, I'm off, going travelling or something, haven't decided yet but I'm not sticking around here._

_School was okay for the first day back though. Nothing much going on. Nicole seemed surprisingly alright considering all that stuff with her brother and Nancy seems to be coping well. I kept seeing Craig around. Sonny was giving him shit because Craig's brother killed his mum. I can understand why he'd be upset but it's hardly Craig's fault is it? Sonny started acting like a dick in the common room, trying to show Craig who's boss or intimidate him or something and I was going to help him but he hardly gave me a reason to. Talk about miserable. I felt really sorry for him when Nicole stepped in. Wish I'd said something now but that would've looked weird and I don't want to get my head kicked in for sticking my nose in Craig's business. Especially when he's made it clear he doesn't like me._

_I couldn't stay away completely though, not when I saw Sonny follow him into school because it looked like there was going to be trouble, especially when Justin followed in behind them. God, I nearly got caught as well. I was going to go in after them but then I thought about what mum would say if I came home with a black eye or a suspension and I decided it really wasn't worth it, she would've gone mental. That __might sound really lame but this guy couldn't even be arsed being nice to me when I was talking to him so why should I get a pounding for getting involved in his business? Still, I didn't want his pretty face to get mangled either, I would've felt really guilty about that so I set off the fire alarm instead. Brilliant idea. Except Stan the man (the caretaker, dear diary) almost caught me. It's a good job the drama club all came out of that classroom at the same time or I would've been sitting detention for the rest of the week._

_You know what though? I thought I'd wait and see that he was alright, maybe get to know him a bit and what did he do? He only came out of school and still had a go. Kind of. He was in a right bad mood, even seemed pissed off that I'd stuck around so I told him I was waiting for Michaela (that's my younger sister, you'll probably hear me complaining about her soon enough). Then when I told him that Sonny and Justin had gone, guess what he did? Only started tearing a strip off me, ranting about what a crap day he'd had, calling me an idiot for setting off the fire alarm (not that he knew it was me he was having a pop at)._

_Now don't get me wrong, I like listening to his voice, his accent suits him and it was kind of cute funny listening to him when he started getting all huffy with it but he was having a right go and it just made me wish I hadn't bothered._

_Thinking about it though, I suppose I should've expected him to go on the defensive, considering I said Michaela could protect him. Must have been a bit of a bash to his male pride that. Oh well, it serves him right for being so moody and ungrateful. He was alright once I told him why I'd done it but I didn't stick around. He can get lost. If he wants to be mates, he can flipping well make the effort next time, I'm staying well out of it._

_Right well, I was only going to write a bit but I got carried away. Mum's shouting me for tea now, sausage casserole, one of my favourites._

_Bye x_

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><p>Well, that wasn't so bad. Yes, John Paul maybe had a little crush on Craig right from the get go but there's nothing in that first entry that makes me worried. Saying that, it was only the first time he'd met Craig so things probably were all sweet and innocent back then.<p>

That's what I tell myself in order to justify turning to the very last entry, dated yesterday.

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><p><em><strong>Monday 14th May<strong>_

_I'm back. Sorry, I know it's been days but I haven't really had anything to report until now._

_Guess what? I saw Craig at the pub today. I know, I know, it's not like I never lay eyes on him but now we're only in school for exams, I only really catch glimpses of him. I've seen him around the village a few times (didn't tell you everything about those though as I said I wasn't going to mention him any more and I knew you'd be mad) but tonight he was right there, in front of me and he saw me too. It's weird but even before I saw him, I could sense he was nearby. Does that make sense? It happened a couple of times when I was sat in the beer garden. I was sure I could feel him close by but I didn't see him and then Spike told me he had been there but he'd gone again before I saw him._

_I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing though. What do you reckon. Good/Bad?_

_Right, confession time and you aren't allowed to judge me, alright? Okay so, you know I've been trying to get over Craig? Stupid question. Sorry. Well I realised today that that's never going to happen. Not unless I have a lobotomy or slip into a coma or something equally drastic anyway. I know, it's ridiculous and I'm only setting myself up for heartache or endless hours of sweet torture if everything does go to plan and he does want to be my friend again but really, I don't care. I'd rather experience that than carry on with this emptiness I've been feeling because at least it's something._

_So I'm going to try and get things sorted out between me and Craig so we can be mates again because seeing him at the pub today has made me realise how much I miss him. I wasn't ready before, in case I had to face rejection from him but I think I'm ready now. No, I KNOW I'm ready now. We were such good mates before I went and messed everything up and I want that back or I want to at least have tried to get it back._

_Jacqui tried talking to me tonight and I wanted so badly to tell her what was wrong with me. Or should it be right? Depends how you look at it I suppose. I could hardly tell her though, could I? She thinks Craig is some kind of devils spawn because of what happened back in February. How am I supposed to tell her that she shouldn't hate Craig for hitting me because it's all my fault in the first place? I feel so ashamed at how I dealt with things with Craig already, without having to reveal everything that happened to my big sister as well._

_I don't know, maybe I should've told her what was going on tonight and that it had nothing to do with Spike. She was in a good mood so she might have understood if I was to tell her all the past stuff that had happened between me and Craig. I don't really deserve her understanding though, do I? The way I've behaved with Spike is bad enough but if Jacqui knew what I'd said to Craig, the position I put him in and if she knew why we got into that fight in the first place, I'm not so sure she'd like me very much either. I certainly don't!_

_I'm going to sort it out though, I am. I just have to work out how._

_Right well, I'm knackered and I have to figure out how to get Craig to look at me again, preferably without him running off this time so I need to get my beauty sleep._

_Night night dear diary, thanks for listening._

_x x x_

_P.S. Me and Spike broke up tonight. He kind of figured out I still have these feelings for Craig and I ended up telling him everything. We're still going to be mates though._

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><p>Well I suppose that answers the questions I had last night as to why John Paul was behaving so strangely. There's me thinking it's because he and Spike split up when it seems that was the last thing on his mind.<p>

I don't get it. How can he sound so excited writing about seeing Craig at the pub after what he did to John Paul and what's with John Paul being the one feeling guilty and ashamed? He's the one who got thumped and then abandoned by his so called best friend. What's he got to feel so bad about? It just doesn't add up.

I wish I'd pushed him more now. Maybe if I'd been a bit more forceful, he would've opened up to me and I'd know what the bloody hell was going on because reading that doesn't tell me anything except that my little brother still has a crush on Craig and wants to be mates with him again. Disaster waiting to happen if you ask me. Still, at least he sounds happy.

"Mum?...'Cedes...Jacq?"

Shit! I quickly stuff the diary back beneath his pillow, cursing myself that it took so long for me to find it. Then I pat down the bed where I've been sat and quietly make my way back out of his room, closing the door softly behind me, just in time as I hear him ascending the stairs.

"Oh, alright Jacq?" he says breathlessly, smiling at me but unlike this morning, it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Yeah...you alright John Paul?" He frowns, looking at me a little puzzled and I realise that I sound really concerned. Clearing my throat, I try again. "You and Spike, it must've hit you hard".

"Oh uhmm...yeah, suppose it did" his eyes dart away from me and this time, having read his diary, I know why he's avoiding me.

"Well you know where I am if you, you know, you need owt" I tell him sincerely, holding my breath when it seems he might say something. He nods his head, edging past me to his bedroom door, stopping with his hand on the doorknob.

"Thanks Jacq just..." I raise my eyebrows and smile, trying to encourage him to open up to me. He clears his throat and smiles back but for some reason, it makes him look even sadder if that's possible.

"Yeah?"

"Just save me those caramels...night Jacq" he says, blushing a little before ducking behind the door and disappearing into his room. I wait until I hear the soft click of the door closing and then head back downstairs, wondering how I can get him to leave that room so I can find out more. If he's not going to ask for my help, then I'm just going to have to find another way to help him, whether he likes it or not.

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><p><em><strong>Thank you for reading x<strong>_


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey, not sure if I mentioned it before or not but diary entries with underlines and # means the words have been crossed out. **

**Enjoy x**

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><p><em><strong>DAY THREE<strong>_

**Wednesday 16th May**

**Jacqui**

**Part Sixteen**

I hate waiting. It's the bane of my life it is. A shrink would probably say it has something to do with the time I spent in prison and the fact that we had so much free time on our hands but the truth is, I simply can't stand waiting around for things because I'm bloody impatient.

"Oi! John Paul! I thought you said you were meeting up with Spike this morning!" I yell, leaning over the banister to look upstairs. He pops his head out of his bedroom door, the damp towel in his hand frantically rubbing over his dirty blond hair.

"I am!"

"Well get a bloody move on then!" He rolls his eyes, goes back into his bedroom and closes the door purposefully behind himself, effectively ending any other conversation that might have been had and leaving me to make myself the third cup of coffee this morning and wait for him to come down. Flicking the remote, I change the channel on the TV to see that it's almost eleven. Twisting around on the settee, I yell to John Paul again.

"What time did you say you were meeting him again!" Oops. I hear a crash followed by a very loud, 'ahh fuck!' and then the patter of footsteps on the top of the landing.

"About twelve...why, what's it to you?" John Paul asks as he jogs to the bottom of the stairs, still in the process of tugging one of his hoodies over his head.

"Nothing, it's just mum's home at twelve, that's all." Great, that's just great. At this rate she'll be back just as he leaves and she's got eyes like a hawk so I won't get chance to look at more of his diary at all.

"What difference does that make?" he asks in that disinterested tone that all teenage boys seem to perfect. Well I can hardly tell him the truth, that I just want a good old nose through his diary.

"Believe it or not little bruv, it would be nice to get a little peace and quiet around 'ere sometimes." He raises his eyebrows and pulls his face at me, snorting. Hang on, who am I trying to help by doing all this again? Oh that's right, him!

"Don't be so cheeky. Mum's still acting weird after last week and with all the rowing going on between Merci and Carmel, not to mention that shite you call music, it's a surprise I 'aven't got a constant migraine" I tell him, watching as his expression turns sheepish. "Now bugger off and go play with your ex will ya". He frowns and tilts his head to one side appraising me. "What?" I ask, my eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"You, you're up to something, I can tell" he adds, wagging his finger at me, looking at me knowingly. I open my mouth to start the denials but he holds his hands up, shaking his head as he backs away from me. "Whatever it is, I don't wanna know, Mum's still being off with me over all that stuff with Alek" he says. Well that's good, at least I don't have to lie to him. It's one thing going behind his back and rooting through his stuff but it's quite another to outright lie to his face. I watch him, wondering what the bloody hell he's doing now as he nabs the remote and flings himself into the armchair, flicking on Jeremy Kyle.

"Wha...what you doing?" he glances over innocently, looking a little hurt at the sharpness of my tone. Well tough luck baby brother, I'm trying to get rid of you for your own good.

"I'm just...God, what is wrong with you?" He asks testily, huffily getting to his feet. He stands there waiting for an answer, his face scrunching up forlornly when he flings the remote back at me.

"Ow, oi, John Paul!"

"What?" he snaps, turning around angrily, his fists coming to rest on his hips. See now if I didn't already know about my brother's preference for blokes, him standing like that would've totally given the game away. Talk about camp. He arches his eyebrow as he continues to scowl at me.

"Look, forget it, just...come sit back down eh?" I say, trying as discreetly as possible to check out the time on the kitchen wall clock. His gaze follows mine, a mixture of a sigh and a snort leaving his mouth when he sees where I was looking. He shakes his head, his jaw clenching.

"You're just like...like eveyone else, pretending you care and then wanting nothing to do with me. Well congratulations, I'm going, enjoy the peace and quite and have a nice life!" he shouts, flouncing out of the door. Shall I go after him? No, I've got other things to sort out and something tells me he was more mad at someone else than he was me. Right then, diary. I'm halfway upstairs when there's a hard knock at the door.

"I forgot my sodding keys" John Paul mumbles as he shoulders passed me into the kitchen.

"Ey, watch your mouth." I chastise, stepping back as he struts back towards the front door. He holds it open as he turns back to glower at me.

"Get lost Jacq, you aren't my mum" he replies vehemently, shutting the door behind him with a resounding slam. That hurt, it really did, especially as I was there for him like a mum through much of his childhood. I tell myself he didn't meant it though as I make my way back upstairs to his room, leaving the door ajar so I can hear mum when she comes home, then immediately locating his diary beneath his pillow.

The first thing I do is check for anything recent, something that might shine some light on why on earth he's in such a surly mood this morning but there's nothing since Monday the 14th and I've already read that, so I go back to the beginning, flicking to his second diary entry.

* * *

><p><em><strong>9th September<strong>_

_You'll never guess what's happened. God, it's awful._

_Mum sent me to Drive n Buy to get milk and when I got there, the whole village stank like Bonfire night. Apparently there was a massive fire in The Dog last night. Craig's fine, I already found that out but some people did die, including both of Justin's __sisters. I might not like the guy that much but I wouldn't wish that on anyone, even my worst enemy. I overheard one person talking about karma but that's just bullshit. No matter what a twat he might be because of Nancy's sister, he shouldn't have to live with that. Can you imagine? Losing BOTH your sisters in the same night? I'd fucking kill anyone who hurt my sisters, no matter how mental they were._

_I heard it was Nicole's brother. Apparently he went bat shit, setting the place on fire as some kind of revenge or something. I don't know, no one really tells me anything._

_Like I say though, Craig's alright. Well, as alright as anyone can be seeing as some psycho just burned his home to the ground. I swear, when I heard about it and then went running round there and saw the fire engines still parked outside and stuff, the whole place completely gutted, my heart was in my mouth. I almost puked. All I kept thinking was what if Craig was in there. It'd be just my luck. Find a mate, probably a best mate and then lose him in the space of a week. God, just thinking about it makes me want to vomit._

_Luckily we'd exchanged numbers yesterday so I called him straight away. He didn't answer the first couple of times I rang, which scared the shit out of me. I just kept imagining him in there, trapped and surrounded by flames, all sorts of morbid scenarios going through my head. My nerves were shot to shit by the time I found out he was alive. I can't tell you how happy I was when I spoke to Gilly in the shop and he said that Calvin had saved Jake and he'd seen Craig and Steph with him._

_I kept calling him though, just to make sure it was true and he finally answered an hour or so later._

_He sounded awful, really weary from lack of sleep, his voice all husky like he'd been crying a lot. Can't say I'd blame him if he had been. He said he couldn't talk for long because he was with his family but that he was okay, he just had a sore throat from all the smoke he'd inhaled. I could tell he was in shock though. His voice kept catching when he was talking about being in the fire and wanting to go back in to look for Steph and Jake. He was so upset as he described it and then he did start crying. I didn't say anything about it though. To be honest, I don't even think he realised._

_He kept repeating how he thought his brother was dead because he'd said some really horrible things to him but I just kept telling him he was being silly. Anyone can see how much Craig idolizes his older brother (even if I don't necessarily think Jake deserves it)._

_Then I heard his mum calling him and he had to go but at least I got to talk to him and hear for myself that he was okay. I wished I was there though. I wanted to hug him and tell him he'd be alright. Does that sound daft? Whatever, I don't care. I'm just glad he was safe._

_xx_

* * *

><p>I can feel my brother's relief as he writes about finding out Craig was alright, can already make out the strength of the bond that the two of them had formed within their first week of school. I wish I'd been here to see that because I can just imagine how made up John Paul would've been at finding a close friend so soon, especially after the tentative way their friendship seems to have started. He probably went round with a smile on his face for weeks.<p>

I'd heard about the fire of course, once I was released from Prison but reading what John Paul has to say about it somehow makes it seem more real than it did back then. The way he writes about his friend as well, makes Craig seem more vulnerable than the cocky little sod that I've blown him up in my mind to be. I suppose I always thought John Paul could find a better mate than Craig because he always seemed to hang around with that Sarah Barnes and I thought it was a bit one sided but maybe Craig was a better friend to our John Paul than I gave him credit for, if he wasn't, why would my brother be so bothered about him.

Oh well, I'll have more time to think about it once mum's back, in the mean time, I reckon I've got time to read more. I turn the next few pages and skim over the various short entries that he'd written in October and early November but it's just more stuff about Craig, school and that Hannah and Sarah he always hung around with. I can't help laughing out loud as he recounts Craig's awful skills when it comes to flirting with Sarah and his own pathetic attempts (in his own words) of trying to communicate with Hannah. Eventually, I come to a long entry that he wrote at the end of November, the various crossings out and pictures he's drawn around the page and the numerous mentions of Craig's name, drawing my attention.

* * *

><p><em><strong>27th November<strong>_

_God, talk about awkward._

_Hannah just left after we all had a night out and like the last time, I kissed her and it was #__okay__# nice. A bit wet and we bumped noses again but I'm getting better. I think._

_Fucking hell! It shouldn't be this hard should it? Getting a girlfriend I mean. Why is it so much easier hanging out with and chatting to Craig than it is being around Hannah? He's a mate and she's a mate, simple._

_Except it's not simple is it?, it's NEVER that simple._

_It just feels strange you know? I don't even really want a girlfriend. No really. I know I'm a teenager and therefore I'm supposed to but, what's the point? I'd rather hang out with my mates but Craig keeps banging on about how much Hannah likes me and how we can double date and stuff so it seemed logical. Sarah's always with him anyway and Hannah's her best mate so at least this way we can all hang out together._

_It just wasn't as much fun as usual, that's all._

_We all met up to go to the cinema but I got there a bit late because my sisters were wreaking havoc as usual. I've no idea what was going on but when I arrived at our meeting place in the village, I'd obviously walked into something between the lot of them. You know you just get that feeling that everyone's talking about you because the room goes silent as soon as you walk in? Yeah well, it was like that. Hannah was happy to see me cos she came bounding right over, Sarah looked a bit exasperated, probably because I'd screwed up the plans a bit with being late and Craig. Oh my God, the look relief on his face when he saw me was so goofy it was comical. I'll hold my hands up and admit that when I turned up, I kind of wished that we could ditch the girls and go out, just the two of us, like we always used to. Things are always more fun that way, you know?_

_Me being late turned out for the best actually, at least as far as me and Craig were concerned. We were meant to be watching some chic flick about fashion, The Prada Devil or something or other but we were late (oops) and ended up having to pick between Saw 3 or Borat. Now me, I'm all for a decent horror film but the thought of seeing Sarah practically sitting in Craig's lap all through a film just didn't appeal (I'm not really ready to analyse that yet) so I nudged him towards Borat. Great choice. It was funny as hell and half way through the film, Sarah actually made Craig switch places so he was sat next to me because we kept leaning over her to talk. I don't think she was too happy but she's a girl and they're wired like that so, what can you do?_

_It's just a shame the film had to finish because by the end of it, it was like we were on a lads night out anyway, I'd all but forgotten about the girls. Sarah and Hannah hadn't though. They both seemed a bit pissed off, so much so that pretty much as soon as we got back to the village, Sarah whisked Craig off with the temptation of sex. See, I can't compete with that can I? Not unless he suddenly turned gay or something._

_I could tell Hannah was expecting more from me as well so I invited her back to mine. I think I was being a bit naïve to think we could just be mates because it was clear from the off that she was wanting more than that. It felt wrong having her in my room and I swear at one point, I caught her staring at my arse whilst I was rooting for CDs._

_There has to be something wrong with me doesn't there? I should feel something more than flattered at the attention from a pretty girl like Hannah but there's just nothing much else there. I like her. I'm just not sure I LIKE her._

_#__I just feel like__# #__When I'm with Hannah, it feels_ _#_

_Urgh. Sorry, this is just so frustrating. It's like she's watching me all the time and it makes me uncomfortable and even when she's not looking at me, I'm over thinking everything I'm doing. I find myself actually having to think of things to say to her because the silences are so awkward. Conversations just don't flow the same with her as they do with #__Cra __#other people. The whole situation unnerves me and makes me nervous and not in a good, 'I'm excited and can't wait to kiss you' way but in a 'I really wish I was anywhere else but here' kind of way._

_That's not good is it? I'll admit it. I'm out of my depth here and floundering around like a one finned fish._

_I tried to show her I just wanted to keep things as they are, told her we were just mates. I even tried to tell her I'm shit with girls (which I am) but that didn't seem to put her off at all. If anything, it seemed to endear me to her even more and it's like she saw me as a challenge. WTF right? I know I'm probably reading into things totally wrong but I can't help it. I thought girls were supposed to prefer lads with more experience that know what they're doing, not 17 year old virgins that'd rather be playing X-Box with their best mate than making out with a cute girl._

_That's where the problem lies though isn't it? With Craig, I'm just myself. I can talk about anything. We've got films and music in common and I can act like a dick with him and think nothing of it but with #__girls__# Hannah I just don't feel like I'm being myself. Besides, I prefer his company. Hannah only makes me laugh in a nervous, feel like I'm going to puke kind of way, where as Craig just makes me laugh. I just feel more of a connection with him than I ever have with anyone else, male or female._

_Maybe that's it. Maybe I'm just getting that much out of finally finding someone who makes me feel really good about myself, really special, that I'm just not open to any other offers, fit girl or otherwise. That'd also kind of explain why Sarah sometimes (alright, most of the time) irritates me so much. #__She's got Craig and I want him.__# She's Craig's girlfriend and I'm just his friend so she kind of outranks me. Not that I want to be more than this friend but I did prefer it when it was just me and him that hung out._

_I've come to a conclusion anyway. I think I've got a bit of a crush on Craig. Before you freak out, it's no big deal. It's just like how some lads feel for their older brothers best mates or their PE teacher. I thought it was a bad thing at first but then I read in an article online that's it's totally natural for boys in their early teens to idolise other boys and want to experiment at things with their mates. I might not be in my early teens anymore but I figure the same rule still applies. Admittedly, the article was talking about things like having a wank together or maybe giving each other one whereas I wonder if Craig's lips are really as soft as they look and how they'd taste but the principle's still the same isn't it?_

_Whatever, I'm not going into that stuff now. It'll pass. Apparently it's just a phase __and I must be a bit of a late developer but that's not exactly news to me. Craig lost his virginity when he was 15, I'm 17. You do the maths._

_Shit! I just remembered I've got an assignment to complete tonight._

_Night x_

_Hey. I just got my usual 'off to bed' text from Craig and noticed I had a voice-mail waiting that he must have left me before we met up. You should hear it. It's so cute._

_Just thought I'd tell you that._

_Night again xx_

* * *

><p><em>"Oh John Paul".<em>

I carefully and silently close his diary before sliding it back into place beneath his pillow and lying back on his bed. Folding my hands across my stomach and closing my eyes, I try to imagine the confusion and excitement John Paul must have been feeling.

So he had a crush on Craig, that's obvious. Not just from the amount of times his friends name is mentioned throughout the diary but the fact that he seems to compare almost everything against him. In all honest, from reading that, Hannah never stood a chance. Not because she's a girl, though in hindsight that clearly went against her but because no one would've matched up to Craig back then. John Paul seemed to think the sun rose and set with his mate and it's not like he couldn't see his faults either, it's just like he was able to spin them into positives.

If I didn't know John Paul better, and know how confidant and self assured he can be, I'd think he was hero worshipping Craig but I do know my brother and so I'm inclined to take things at face value and simply say that he really liked Craig, so much so that he could see past his friends bad points to the person beneath the somewhat immature, cheeky exterior.

I'm beginning to understand what Darren was getting at now though. If their friendship was half as strong when they fell out with each other in February as it clearly was way back in November, then I can see how it could have such a saddening, adverse affect on the pair of them.

I just wish I knew that Craig felt the same about John Paul.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thank you for reading x<strong>_


	17. Chapter 17

**Wednesday 16th May**

**Darren**

**Part seventeen**

I wish he'd hurry up and get a move on, I've only got half an hour before the pub needs opening up for lunch and he's still fannying about in his room. I asked him this morning, I said to him I said 'Have you got any exams today?'. Of course with this being Craig he didn't answer right away, but I'm a persistent guy when I need to be and eventually I got a mumble for an answer… he's got one starting at 12. Which was fine by me, I figured with his exam starting at 12 it'd mean him having to leave here at about 11:15, giving me plenty of time to have another good rummage through his diary before opening. But no such look, I've just poked my head around the door and he's still not dressed, stood there in only a pair of black jeans with no top or shoes to be seen. He's cutting it a bit fine if he wants to get his arse into that classroom on time, and I told him as much not five minutes back. He didn't look like he much cared though, sauntering about casually collecting a few pens from his floor. Talk about inconsiderate! I mean yeah he's got an exam which is obviously quite important, but not half as important as me having another read of his life story, and boy have I been itching to get my hands on that diary again.

After yesterdays read, I've decided that the kid needs my help now more than ever. Therefore I've forced all feelings of guilt and betrayal firmly to one side and decided to push on with my plan as intended - and seriously hoping that Jacqui McQueen is doing the exact same thing across the other side of the village. It has occurred to me that Craig is stuck in a kind of limbo at the moment, whether he realises it or not. On the one hand he clearly knows what it is he wants - his best mate back in his life. But then on the other hand he's probably thinking he's not got a cat in hells chance of ever getting his best mate back and therefore hasn't got a sodding clue what it is he wants after all. Well that's soon going to change, those two are going to be sipping cocktails in front of Die Hard 3 by the end of this week even if it bloody well kills me. Before I do anything else though…

"Craig, it's quarter to twelve, do you seriously want to fail your exams again, ey?"

No answer, shock horror. I do hear a bit of a bang though, followed by a 'fuck' and a 'fucking fuck', concluding with a 'stupid fucking thing'.

"Are you talking about me?" I shout loudly to him, no doubt in my mind that he can here every word from inside his bedroom. "Cheeky twat, I was only asking! I mean it's no skin off my back if you fail your exams is it? It's more your mother's reaction I was worried about, cos you know as well as I do she'll hit the pissing roof if she finds out you skived off from your exams while you were in my care, and there ain't no way on this Earth that I am getting bitch slapped by Frankie Osborne just cos her lazy arsed God forsaken son couldn't get a fucking well move on for his…"

"I wasn't talking about you!" Oh finally! He's out of his room and, well would you look at that, the lads dressed as well! It's a miracle I tell ya, a miracle. That said, I'm not liking the 'bloody psycho' he's just muttered as he grabs his trainers from the hallway, although in all fairness I probably deserved it. I did go a little Norman Bates on him just then, but one thing I've learned about our troubled young cherub here is that loud voices of the prolonged variety do nothing but terrible things for his constant state of alcoholic miasma. If my nicey nicey gentle shoves of encouragement aren't going to shift him out the door before 12 then a bloody good slap of the eardrums will do the trick instead.

"Why are you so bothered about it anyway? It's not you that's going to fail is it?" he huffs as he plonks his backside down in the armchair opposite to slide his trainers on.

**"**Well I know that, it's just…" Well what can I say? I can't tell him the real reason I want him out of here can I? "Look just get a move on will you, before I have Frankie on the phone again telling me how incapable I am at everything."

"Has she been checking up on me again?" He looks over at me accusingly as he finishes with his laces, well finishes tucking them down the side of his trainers anyway.

"Well what do you expect? She's your mother."

"She's a pain in the bloody arse is what she is." He mutters as he gets up… ready to leave I'm hoping.

"You can't say that Craig!" Even if it is true, I think to myself.

"Why can't I? All she does when she's here is nag me constantly about getting some fresh fucking air, and stupid me thought I'd actually get a break from her constant whining now that she's away for the week. But oh no, not me. I'm getting it now more than ever!" He makes his way over to the door grabbing his jacket as he prepares to vacate the premises. Hurrah! "Mothers, who'd have 'em?"

"Yeah, cheers for that mate." Not that I'm actually all that offended by it, my mothers probably sat around some pool in Los Angeles sunning herself up right about now… or at least that's where I think she is at the moment anyway. He does have the decency to look a little bit guilty, it doesn't last long though before he's heading for the stairs.

"See you later" he mumbles.

"See you Craig" I say in my finest wishy washy mother voice. "Have a lovely day at school won't you. Bye now!" I shout the last part as he slams the back door behind him, stroppy git. Stroppy or not though, he's gone which is the main thing. Glancing up at the clock, I see it's already just after ten to twelve. Technically I should be down in the bar now getting ready to open up, but I've been waiting all morning for this opportunity to get here, I'm not passing up on it now, no way!

I head straight for his room, paying no attention to the sights and smells within as I locate his wardrobe and delve straight in, my fingers soon brushing across the creased, bent up cover of his diary. Pulling it out, I take it with me as I re-enter the living area - at least with Craig not expected back for an hour or two it means I can have a read whilst lounging on the comfort of the sofa rather than having to spend another minute longer than necessary in his flea pit of a bedroom.

'Now then, lets see which pages you've read so far shall we?' speaks one of my inner-voices. Ahh, this is Kate, my Voice of Knowledge. She's not around all that often but it's nice to hear from her every once in a blue moon. 'You've definitely read that first one' she continues. Between you an me, I think her and my Voice of Reason, Tom, are having marital problems. Bless 'em. 'Aha! Here's one you've not had a flick through'. Oooh, now this looks like an interesting one if the top of this first page is anything to go by. Right, I've got five minutes, best get cracking.

* * *

><p><em><strong>26th January 2007<strong>_

_**EVERYTHING IS COMPLETELY FUCKED UP!**_

_**27th January 2007**_

_**Hi.**_**  
><strong>**  
><strong>_**So last night didn't turn out like I thought it would, in fact I'd say I summed things up perfectly last night, cos everything is now well and truly fucked up. I've gone from having a hot girlfriend and a top best mate to having, well to be honest I don't know what the hell I've got anymore.**_

_**It'd been a great night up until those two decided to mess everything up (and by those two I mean Sarah and John Paul). It was Hannah's 18th so everyone from school was there, the beer was flowing nicely, even the music had been good. I reckon JP could've done a better job though if he'd been DJing instead. Anyway like I said it'd been going really well, me and Sarah had even managed to sneak upstairs for a bit of, well, you know. We didn't get very far though as it happens, Hannah made sure of that.**_

_**Fuck it, cut a long story short. Sarah got pissed and snogged Rhys and I ended up thumping the CUNT. But if your thinking the drama stopped there then you couldn't be more bloody wrong. After my supposed girlfriend decided to completely humiliate me in front of the whole party, my supposed mate then decided to go all weird on me. He said something about me being so much better than Sarah (just after he'd dragged me off that girlfriend stealing tosser Rhys), and then he ran off, so I went to go and find him, yeah? Only when I did find him he was out the back garden crying. I don't think I've ever seen him upset before.**_

_**I could see that he knew something though, and I just presumed he was gonna tell me something about Sarah. Well let's just say I didn't exactly get what I'd bargained for. He's in love with me, my best friend is in love with me, or so he says anyway. I can't get my head around it though, it feels weird just writing it in here. It's a complete mind fuck, right? He told me he was in love with Sarah at Xmas, then he told me he was in love with Hannah, and now he's in love with ME? What does that even mean? He can't be gay, I would know if he was gay. So, what then?**_

_**And now what? I'm expected to get dressed and show my face in school on Monday. Everyone who was at the party last night is going to be there, including John Paul. What am I supposed to say to him? I can't exactly avoid him, people might start asking questions and I really don't think I can handle answering them. What if he tries to talk to me about it though? Or maybe he'll give me the wide birth completely. I'm not sure which scenario scares me more tbh. I know one thing though, today is going to be a nightmare.**_

_**Argghhh! Why did he have to go and say that? It was fine, everything was absolutely fine up until last night, and now I haven't got a clue how I'm supposed to feel about anything no more. He was being serious, I could tell that he was being serious, I just wish I knew what the hell I'm supposed to do about it.**_

_**As for Sarah, Rhys is welcome to her as far as I'm concerned, I've got more important things to think about than that slut.**_

* * *

><p>Bloody Sarah, as if he's not had enough upset from girlfriends in the past! Having said that, you can't exactly blame Rhys for having a crack at it can you, eh? It sounds as if she gets around a bit though, going from a private fumble with Craig to a public fumble with Ashworth… I still would though.<p>

But anyway, where was I? Err… oh yeah, Craig's mind being completely fucked. Well I mean I can see why, that's for sure. First he has to deal with his woman snogging another fella, and then there's all this business with John Paul as well. I'm just glad I didn't bump him to him when he got in that night, that's all I can say. The poor kid sounds so confused, it's not everyday your best friend comes out with something like that, is it?**  
><strong>**  
><strong>I would love to have been a fly on the wall in the school that day, seriously the list of awkward conversations that must have happened is endless. I know for a fact that Craig ended things with Sarah around about that time, so I'm guessing he didn't change his mind about the whole 'slut' thing. It's good to see he got a fist in with Rhys though, defending his male pride, nice one lad! John Paul though, now he's a different kettle of fish all together. They definitely made up after this little episode because it was the fight that they fell out over, not from this 'I wuv you' stuff. I wonder what happened then? What was said? Craig was obviously dreading having any conversation about it but it must have happened at some point for them to have become friends again.

There's one thing I definitely now know for certain though, cos despite everything that happened that night, despite not having a clue how he was gonna deal with the situation he'd found himself in back then, Craig still woke up the next morning feeling more worried about the prospect of not seeing John Paul again rather than any awkward conversations that were bound to occur. If that doesn't tell you everything you need to know then I don't know what will, if that'd been Zak saying stuff like that to me then I'd have avoided him like a fat person in Greggs.

I'm just sat here wondering what time it is, knowing that I've been up here way longer than I should have been as I unconsciously flick the page over, when I notice that the diary entry I'd just read continues on the back page. How the fuck did I miss that? I blame Kate, she should've bloody said something.

* * *

><p><em><strong>29th January 2007<strong>_

_**Right, so I've just got back from school and me and John Paul have decided we're still going to be mates. He said he's not going to mention it again, the things that he said on Friday, so it should be ok now I think. I hope it is anyway, I'm still a bit freaked out by it all cos there's no way he said something like that by mistake, but we had a chat in the art room earlier and sort of cleared the air a bit. Well, we diluted it anyway, the big pink elephant hasn't totally left the atmosphere yet. I sort of told him that we couldn't be mates anymore, I hadn't meant to but it just came out before I could stop it. So then he threatened to leave and said I'd never have to hear from him again, well there is no way I could've let him do that. Just hearing him say it made my blood run cold , but luckily I managed to stop him and we sorted stuff out as best we can. He's told me he can switch his feelings off for me apparently, reckons he's gonna stay with Hannah as well. I don't know if I like the idea of that though, I'm still trying to get my head around it all tbh.**_

_**Me and Sarah sorted things out as well, I kinda forgave her for what she did with Rhys. I'm still not sure if it's what I want though, I'm pretty sure it is but I'd be lying if I said I didn't get back with her earlier partly because John Paul was watching us. I just wanted to prove the point that I wasn't interested in him in that way and Sarah sort of gave me the perfect opportunity. I'm still pissed off with her for what she did with Rhys, but at least this way no-one can say anything when they see I've got a girlfriend, right? Hey, I never said it made any sense.**_

_**I'm gonna go anyway, I'm not seeing her tonight cos I made up some piss poor excuse about having a dodgy stomach and she's left me to it. I've got last week's episode of Lost downloaded onto my laptop so I might watch that after my shower. Honestly, the people on that island think they've got it bad, they wanna try being me!**_

_**x**_

* * *

><p><strong><strong>I knew it! What did I tell you, eh? It was so obvious that he wasn't all that bothered about Sarah, and this just proves it. He only got back together with her to prove a point to John Paul, not because he actually wanted to. Oh and may I be the first to say, that _definitely _sounds like one hell of an awkward conversation they had that day. John Paul's kidding himself for starters if he thinks he can switch off his feelings just like that, although I've got a feeling he probably knew that already and just said it for Craig's sake. Craig though, surely he's not totally frigging clueless that he'd believe crap like _that_? I'm thinking they both just went along with it for the sake of their friendship… awww.

Craig still seems unhappy about John Paul getting back with Hannah though, but why? Surely if they were both getting back together with their girlfriends then that would mean Craig was at least safe. Not that John Paul is some weird psycho serial killer or anything, but… well you get what I mean. Maybe he was worried that John Paul was staying with Hannah for the wrong reasons, but then he's not exactly got room to talk on that front either has he?

Christ, you couldn't make this stuff up. If I didn't know better I'd think this was all part of some soap opera you'd find on late night Channel 4. It's bloody good stuff though I'm telling you, who needs Take A Break when you've got this?

Unfortunately for me work beckons, just as I was getting into the story as well! I'm already ten minutes late opening up though. Closing the diary, I make my way back into the hell hole and put it back where I found it - "Until the next time my friend" - shutting his door behind me when I'm done.

"Right then bitches, let's go make some dollar."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thank you for reading x<strong>_


	18. Chapter 18

_**Wednesday 16th May**_

_**John Paul and Spike**_

_**Part Eighteen **_

"You okay John Paul? You're looking a bit lost." I glance up at Tony, half expecting to see our Jacqui mooching about behind him having followed me here but she's not, luckily, it's just him.

"Nah I'm fine...honestly" I add when his expression remains unconvinced. I'm sitting at one of the tables outside Il Gnosh on what is turning out to be one of the warmest days of the year so far. It's gorgeous, really, I just can't seem to lift my spirits enough to enjoy it. I'm waiting for Spike. We'd said we'd stay mates and arranged to meet up for coffee after we broke up on Monday but I was still surprised when I received a text this morning confirming it. Pleasantly surprised though.

I see Tony continuing to hover nearby so I smile at him, raising my eyebrows expectantly.

"Where's your partner in crime then?" he asks, glancing around as he starts clearing the cups from the table next to me. I lean back in my chair, sighing.

"Getting ready to take his exam I expect". Tony hesitates, the cup in his hand hovering in the air above the tray.

"I...I meant that other bloke, the one I've seen you hanging out with, he's your boyfriend isn't he?" he ask, brows furrowed in confusion. Shit! Course he meant Spike. There's only me still thinks of Craig as...well anyway.

"Spike, yeah...well, he...he was but...not any more" I finish, nodding to myself, feeling a little embarrassed at the whole situation. Jeez, why can't I just let it go? _He_ has.

"

Oh". Tony looks at me, a mixture of pity and sympathy radiating from his features. Well he can stick his pity where the sun don't shine, at least I'm not in love with a woman who's married to someone else. '[i]No, you're just in love with a straight guy who used to be your best friend and now doesn't want anything to do with you' [/i]my inner voice of reason points out.

"Get lost!"

"Sorry?" Tony looks at me like I've sprouted horns and I realise I just that out loud.

"Nothing, sorry Tony, just ignore me. I...I guess I am having a bad day" I say flippantly, wrapping my hands around my glass to stop myself gesturing.

"It's understandable, there's nothing like the end of a relationship to get you feeling down". '_Or finally realising that you're never gonna get back the best friend you ever had_' I feel like adding.

"I guess".

"Listen, it probably feels like the worst thing in the world right now but it's not, trust me, I've been there." For Christ sake, he's looking at me like he's my dad or something, at least, the way my dad would if he gave a toss. How the fuck would he know anyway? Maybe it's not the worst thing in_ his_ world but it is in mine.

**"**Besides, there's plenty more fish in the tank" he adds in all his infinite wisdom. I nod in acknowledgement but inside, I'm just willing him to go away. Thankfully he does, giving me a reassuring pat on my shoulder before heading back inside. Great. My life really must be going to shit if I've got Tony Hutchinson feeling sorry for me.

"Am I late?" I look up with relief as Spike approaches the table, one of his ready smiles already adorning his face. "We did say twelve o'clock didn't we?" he asks, glancing from his watch to the empty plate and the half drunk glass of Sprite in front of me. I check the time and see that it isn't even eleven fifty five yet. No wonder he's baffled. In all the time we were going out, he always got there first. I shrug, waving at the chair opposite me.

"I had to get out of the house, family stuff, you know" I inform him. "Okay, Jacqui was driving me mental" I say, elaborating further. He first met my sister at the wedding so he knows exactly what I'm talking about. He grins as he sits down, tucking his ever present bag beneath the table. "Are you working again tonight?"

"I uh...well no, not exactly" he turns his head as Tony steps outside to take our order, asking for a glass of ice water and adding on a cappuccino when Tony starts scowling. Then he raises his brows at me.

"I'll just have another of these for now, thanks". I watch Tony hesitate before going back inside, then go back to the conversation. "What do you mean, not exactly? I thought you worked Tuesdays and Thursdays?"

"

Well yeah I do but see yesterday when I got there, Darren was swamped, so I helped out for a bit " he says nonchalantly.

"Oh right. So you're helping out today as well? What time are you starting?" He shifts in his seat, his eyes darting around the place catching on everything but me. He clears his throat which just makes me even more suspicious because Spike is not a nervous guy. In fact, I think it's safe to say he's the most confidant person I've ever met, gay or otherwise.

"I've not got a time or anything, it's just I had nothing else planned so I thought I'd just swing by there, see if Darren needed..."

"Wait...wait, _Darren_?" I interrupt suspiciously, watching him squirm beneath my scrutiny, "oh man, you've got a crush on him haven't you?" I ask, realisation dawning on me. He doesn't readily agree but I can tell from the way he's acting that he has. This isn't good and it certainly isn't like Spike to break his own rule, one he pretty much laid out to me the second day he met me, before he even knew about Craig.

"Spike listen, I know he's got that whole, grungy Sawyer look going on that you like but he's straight ...like, _proper_ straight" I remind him, "that whole flamboyant thing's just him" I add, somewhat incredulous. He just shrugs, diverting his attention to Tony, smiling and thanking him and then ordering some chips as he brings the drinks over. Then he turns back to me, eyebrows arched, a defiant look on his face.

"So? So's your Craig" he replies, taking a tentative sip of the foaming coffee. Exactly! You'd think he'd learn from my lesson then wouldn't you? Not go out and fall for the nearest unavailable bloke who happens to be the love of my life's step brother.

"And your point is?" He looks at me then, his gaze holding mine as he lifts the cup slowly to his lips and blows. Then he takes another little sip before carefully placing the cup back down and shrugging.

"People change" he says in a very offhand manner. People change?

**"**What's that supposed to mean?" Spike cocks his head to one side, then leans forward so his elbows rest on the table either side of his drink, his fingers laced in an arc above it.

"Nothing just...not every gay bloke on the planet is like me and realises which way he swings from birth. I got lucky and you my friend, were a bit of a late bloomer but honestly, some guys get married and even have kids before they realise their true orientation, you know". He's nuts. If he's actually getting at what I think he is, he's absolutely stark raving mental.

"You actually think Darren...?" he starts shaking his head immediately, his whole body vibrating with laughter.

"Darren, no" he snorts good naturedly, "not really. I mean, ...I wish but...no" he says, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance, laughing wryly. "I think Lady Luck would have to pull a few strings for that to happen but Craig on the other..." he looks at me pointedly and shrugs.

"Don't!" I tell him adamantly, "I mean it Spike, don't even say it or I'm leaving". I glare across the table at him, shaking my head and folding my arms defiantly, effectively silencing him before he even thinks of continuing. He holds his hands up in defeat, clearly exasperated.

"Okay okay just...no one can say I didn't try" he says cryptically. God, he's driving me mental.

"Look Spike, after what you said the other day, I thought...I thought _maybe_ me and Craig did stand a chance of being mates again but after yesterday..."

"Why? What happened yesterday?"

* * *

><p><strong>Spike<strong>

"I took your advice and went to see Craig" John Paul tells me succinctly, licking his lips and swallowing hard as he diverts his gaze. I'd love to say that I feel like doing a happy dance for being right yesterday when I guessed they must have seen each other but really, there's nothing to feel good about here. If Craig's reaction alone when he came back into The Dog wasn't enough to tell me things didn't go well, then the hurt, sorrowful look in John Paul's eyes right now, is.

"And?" I can see he doesn't want to talk about it but if we're to stand a chance of getting things sorted for these two, then me and Darren need to know what happened. He shrugs but I can see the 'couldn't give a damn' attitude is all a facade and he's really upset about it all.

"I came to the pub, well, I was getting ready to come to the pub..."

"Psyching yourself up you mean?" he nods in agreement, his face flushing.

"Yeah", he says sheepishly, "but before I was ready, he came outside". Now as much as I'm aware John Paul has these feelings for Craig and I was instrumental in us breaking up to pave the way for them, I still can't help the pang of jealousy I feel when I see that wistful expression on his face. I mean, Jesus Christ, he only has to think about seeing the guy and he turns all glowy. I swear, if it wasn't for that thing people talk about, fate and karma and kismet, I'd be well in there, trying to put that expression on his face myself. The thing is, you can't compete with destiny can you?

"Well?...what happened?" I'm putting my money on John Paul seeing Craig and Craig doing a runner. I quickly discard that theory when he suddenly becomes radiant, a huge smile breaking across his face and those vibrant blue eyes of his lighting up at the memory. Maybe I'm wrong and there was more to it than that.

"Are you sure you want to hear this? I mean, I'm not sure..." I wave off his hesitancy. It's too late for me but I'd still like to see him happy and if it means putting a twinkle in little Craigy's eyes too, what the hell right? Besides, they'd make a proper fit couple, even if I am the only one that sees that kind of potential between them. As far as I'm concerned, they would so get it on, Craig included, no matter how much John Paul, Darren and maybe Craig himself would deny it. I know chemistry when I see it and after seeing the pair of them on Monday, there's no question in my mind that theirs is heated enough to set a science lab on fire.

"Go for it...honestly, I'm fine with this" I tell him, meaning it too. Yes, fair enough, at one point I did think me and John Paul had something going for us but once I heard about the Craig thing and saw John Paul's reactions to him, I knew I was second best. I just hope things do get sorted out between them or some other poor sucker's going to end up in the position I was in. He still seems hesitant to carry on talking though, clearly wary of hurting my feelings. I could explain to him that I think him and Craig stand a better chance than we ever could but right now, what's the point? He won't allow himself to believe that anyway so I'm better off saving my breath, listening to what he has to say and then reporting my findings back to Darren so he can do something about it with Craig.

"So what? Did he run off before you could even talk to him or something?" I ask flippantly, intent on getting the ball rolling. It seems to work as John Paul nods his head in agreement, looking down at his fingers as he tears up the soggy napkin his drink's been sitting on. He sighs, lifting his eyes to meet mine, that sparkle of excitement I saw in them a few minutes ago diminishing with each passing second.

"Yep, pretty much" he says resignedly, sitting back in his seat with a dour look on his face. I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to elaborate. He shrugs half heartedly. "I was over the other side of the pond, you know...getting ready to go in and talk to him but before I could, he came outside." Ahh yeah, that'd be when he shot passed me and Darren, barely giving us a glance. Again, John Pauls' expression turns kind of dreamy as he remembers it, making me throw up in my mouth a little bit. True love eh? What can you do? "Anyway, I couldn't move because I was just so nervous, so I watched him."

He starts telling me how he felt sick and how he wanted to march right over there and talk to Craig but that he chickened out. Then he launches into how he had butterflies and how Craig looked different, nice but disheveled different and I find myself agreeing. Lucky for me, Tony comes out with the chips...about time too, I've been waiting twenty minutes, so it takes John Paul a couple of minutes of chewing before he picks up on it.

"You saw Craig yesterday?" he asks when he's swallowed a mouthful of chips.

"Uh huh but only briefly" I say evasively. John Pauls' eyes narrow suspiciously as he looks at me.

"Did you talk to him?"

"A little but only because I was helping Darren out and he was getting in the way" I state tactfully. Something tells me John Paul wouldn't be too happy with me if he knew exactly what we'd chatted about.

"Oh". He sounds disheartened, bowing his head and holding it in his hands as he runs his fingers through his hair.

"What's up? What aren't you telling me?"

He turns his eyes to me then, frowning, his voice catching in his throat. "He was smoking Spike, he's never done that before, always hated it and he looked so sad" he says, lifting his eyes to mine, "do you think he's still upset about Sarah?"

I look back at John Paul, wondering how he can be so smart and yet so oblivious at the same time. I can see his concern though and hear how worried he is about Craig but as much as I want to tell him what I really think, I still don't think he's ready to listen.

"Could be". His shoulders slump slightly when he hears that and it's like he takes it as confirmation that he's right and that Craig is pining for Sarah. Not my intention at all. "I'm pretty sure there's more to it than that though" I say, smiling to myself when I see some of the light start to appear again.

"

Yeah, like what?" he asks eagerly. Again, I wish I could tell him what I'm really thinking but there's that small percent chance I'm wrong and the last thing I want to do is get his hopes up and have the wind knocked out of his sails. Still, just for the record. I'm right, I know I am.

"I'm pretty sure he's feeling under pressure from his exams but mate, he misses you" I tell him sincerely, feeling great when he starts to smile, his blue eyes suddenly querying. I want to tell him what Darren's said and what he read and what I interpret that to mean but it isn't really my place to, even though I'd love to see his eyes get even brighter. Still, I can give him some hope. "Think about it, he's gone from having a best mate to no mate, he's bound to be feeling shitty".

"So why would he run off then?" he asks, confirming my suspicion. He looks back forlornly, reminding me of one of those lost, abused dogs you see in the RSPCA advertisements.

"Did he see you?" Of course he saw him. That's why he came tearing into The Dog like he was being chased by a bunch of dementors.

"Yeah...yeah he definitely saw me" he responds with conviction. "He was fine, he was just...sitting there and then he saw me and just took off...he didn't even want to look at me Spike" he finishes in quite resignation.

"Hey...hey!" I reach out across the table and cover John Paul's hand with mine for a brief second, trying to offer some comfort. "Maybe he just didn't know how to react seeing you, that's all. You guys haven't spoken in months remember? You probably just surprised him and made him nervous" I say trying to reassure him.

"You think so?" he asks hopefully.

"Yeah, I do...now stop over thinking everything, I'll back in a minute" I say, getting up and patting him on the shoulder as I go inside to use the toilet. I head into the gents and take out my phone, cursing when the pub phone rings out. They must be busy. Next I try Darren's mobile phone, becoming even more frustrated when it goes straight to his voice-mail.

"Darren? It's Spike. Listen, you need to have a chat with Craig or something. I've been talking to John Paul and they did see each other yesterday but your bloody brother ran off before John Paul could speak to him...anyway, if you get this then call me back, otherwise I'll see you this afternoon...bye". I hang up, hoping I don't sound as nervous as I feel.

"Spike? Do you really think Craig wants to be mates again?" John Paul asks as soon as I step back through the restaurant door. I glance past him when I see a movement over his shoulder, nodding my head with certainty.

"I know so, in fact, I'd bet my life on it" I reply with utter confidence, narrowing my eyes to get a better look at Craig as he stands there, beneath the bridge, paralysed in place and with his mouth gaping open as he stares transfixed at John Paul. Yeah, he was definitely running scared when he bolted yesterday. Not scared/fearful of John Paul exactly, I don't believe that for a second. More likely that he was scared of what John Paul might say or make him feel.

I can see it in his eyes from here. They're fixed on John Paul and he's looking at him with a mixture of trepidation and eagerness, a bit like how a kid would view a roller-coaster on seeing it for the first time, your first instinct is that you want a ride but at the same time, something's holding you back, telling you it's risky.

He looks like he's holding his breath, with his lip caught between his teeth and his hand tightens around the strap of his book bag, like he's having to stick tight hold of it to stop himself from waving. He glances at me at that point so I divert my attention, once more looking directly at John Paul, grinning at him broadly despite having no clue what he's just said.

"Sorry what?"

"I said, what makes you so sure?" he asks, looking at me questioningly as he leans across the table and snags another one of my chips.

I incline my head to the side and glance over his shoulder as indication, watching as he tenses before surreptitiously looking back behind him.

Damn! Craig ducks his head and looks away a split second too soon and starts to walk away quickly, his hasty retreat morphing into a jog as he passes the baby blue signage surrounding the new Mobs bar directly across from where we're sitting. I watch until he disappears from view down the alley next to The Loft and then turn back to John Paul, noting the disappointed expression on his face turn to shock when he finally allows himself to blink and look at his watch.

"He's meant to be taking an exam right now" he says, his whispered tone both worried and incredulous. Oh shit! I curse Darren beneath my breath for not picking up his phone because if he had, then Craig would've at least had time to approach John Paul if he wanted to before I came back outside, that would've at least made ditching his exam worthwhile. I wonder if John Paul has even questioned why Craig isn't in that exam right now and why he was just standing there, staring at him.

"He was looking at you" I point out encouragingly. He nods his head but he's frowning and he's got that 'wounded' thing going on.

"Right". His fingers start to massage his temples and he sighs heavily, clearly hurt and frustrated. "He still ran away again though" he says resignedly. He's right, Craig did run off again and therein lies the problem. John Paul didn't get to see the mess of emotions Craig was going through that I did, otherwise he might be able to understand what I'm getting at. Something tells me it could literally leap up and bite him in the ass though and he still wouldn't believe it.

"He looked like he was coming this way before he saw _me_" I point out. John Paul just shrugs, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Yeah? It doesn't matter though does it? He took off and that's exactly how he reacted yesterday as well." He glances at me before looking away sharply, not fast enough for me to not see the tears glistening in those sad blue eyes though. "Look, Spike, I don't want to always sound negative but I just...I think you were wrong" he says, looking at me ruefully. "I think I'm better off just forgetting about Craig and trying to get on with my life" he adds determinedly.

"You think you can do that?" I say, voicing the obvious.

"I think I'm gonna have to. He doesn't want anything to do with me Spike, an idiot can see that". I shake my head, hating hearing the resignation in his voice. He can't give up. If he gives up, there's no way I'm going to be able to persuade Darren to sort Craig out. I'm counting on John Paul being the strong one here because Craig seems to have already gone to pieces.

"Bullshit!" I blast out with more vehemence than I intended because John Paul looks at me first startled and then sheepishly. "No, I'm sorry John Paul but you're wrong. He might not know how to talk to you or maybe he's just being a dick but I'm telling you, giving up's the worst thing you can do."

I don't know if I've managed to persuade him or not but at least he looks thoughtful and hasn't outright rejected what I've said as he goes off to get more drinks. Now I just need to speak to Darren.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thank you for reading x<strong>_


	19. Chapter 19

_**Wednesday 16th May**_

_**Craig**_

_**Part Nineteen**_

Twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes I've been sat here, and I've yet to write a single thing down. Well I say I haven't written anything, I have, but none of it has absolutely anything to do with the topics covered in this exam paper. I've scribbled and doodled my way through the first three questions and to be honest, the fourth one isn't going much better. I'm 99.9% sure that "JP LUVS SPIKE" is definitely not the reason why Act II of Romeo & Juliet illustrates the intensity of their love. In fact I'd say the only thing it does illustrate, to me at least, is that the love John Paul once said he had for me has since moved on to another, a person who John Paul had decided deserves his love more than I do. Who can blame him, eh? Although his latest choice leaves a lot to be desired if you want my opinion on it, he could do just about a million times better than that fat headed, narcissistic, ridiculously named halfwit.

Still, now isn't the ideal time to be mulling over any hatred I may have for that _thing_, I should be concentrating on the Capulet's knocking seven shades of shit out of the Montague's.

You know what really bugs me more than anything? He's so smug about having John Paul all to himself, he can't help but parade him around like some cheap showpiece. Whenever I've had the misfortune of seeing the two of them together he's always got his greasy hands all over John Paul's body or his fish paste tongue enjoying the heat of John Paul's soft lips, and he seems to do it even more when I'm around as well. I swear he does it on purpose just to make me jealous as hell, which sounds ridiculous considering no-one even knows how I actually feel about John Paul but that's what it feels like he's doing whenever I see them. I've lost count of how many times I've imagined the two of them having some massive argument and breaking up, usually resulting in John Paul smacking the dickhead right between the eyes. He'd never do that though, John Paul hasn't got a bad bone in his beautiful body... if only the same could be said for me.

As I say though, now isn't the time to be going over all of this stuff in my head, not unless I want to fail for the second year in a row.

I've often tried to remember what his lips felt like against mine, John Paul's. That night in the sports hall, that all too brief kiss that I pulled away from, and I can't even remember how they felt in those few seconds. I'd been drinking, we'd even shared a bottle of red between us in the hour or so leading up to that moment, and sometimes I think to myself that if only I'd left the booze alone then maybe, just maybe I'd have more of a vivid memory to wank over… not that I do that, obviously. But then if I hadn't had a drink, the chances are we'd never have reached the kissing stage in the first place and I'd sooner struggle to remember what his delicious mouth tasted like rather than it never having happened at all.

Anyway, what question am I on now? Err, well I've kind of ruined this page so I guess we'll just skip to the next one. '_Is it plausible that a love story of this magnitude could take place so quickly?_**'**

Yes, of course it's plausible, I'm living bloody proof of it! Me and John Paul, it's not even been eight months since we first met and now look at us. He's already fallen in and out of love with me, and I'm just as bad. It may have taken me a while to realise how I actually felt about him but when I did, boy did I know about it. This bullet train of emotions crashed into me at full speed and now I'm stuck with the wreckage of it all while he moves on and leaves me to it. It's no more than I deserve, but it doesn't stop it from hurting - not one bit.**  
><strong>**  
><strong>Oh sod this, I'm getting nowhere fast with these questions and we're still only half hour into a ninety minute exam. I should just give up now, either that or stick my hand in the air and ask for a new paper but to do that I'd have to actually care about completing it, even a little bit, and I just don't. This isn't good, sitting in my room and wallowing in self pity is one thing but letting it affect my chances of getting in at Trinity? I've spent the last two years of my life working hard to make it to Dublin and after my complete and utter failure last year, I swore to myself that I'd do it this time. With John Paul by my side I knuckled down, I paid attention when attention needed to be paid, I did the work, put the hours in (unless I was playing X-box with JP, but everyone needs a break from the stresses of education every once in a while, right?), and now look? I'm flunking questions that need not be flunked, I know the answers to them all for fuck's sake, so why am I not even attempting to do them?

Well you've already worked that one out for yourselves anyway, I'm useless without John Paul. Everything was going great when I had him, including my work. I could almost smell the Irish air filling my lungs, and now all I'm left with is the decidedly bad taste of misery and overwhelming defeat. I can't carry on like this, my life is going to shit right before my very eyes and I'm sat here expected to write down how many times Romeo got his end away with Juliet behind the penny-farthing shed. I need John Paul for me to function, I need him to succeed… I _need _John Paul. He'll probably tell me where I can shove my friendship, my worst fear over these last few months has been him rejecting me again and again and I know, I just know that there is every chance it'll happen again today, but I don't have a choice in this anymore. I can't keep hiding away, I need to try.

It's time.

I quickly shove my stuff into my bag and throw it across my shoulder as I push the chair away from the table, creating a loud screech across the floor as I stand. There's a few disgruntled students sending a few disgruntled tuts my way as I leave, the classroom door banging loudly against the wall in my haste to get out of there. Can't really say I have the time nor the patience to give a fuck, but hey. The wall displays and graffitied locker's all blend into one as I stride out of the school and onto the grassy embankment, my pace never slowing as I head back towards the village. If I slow down, if I give myself the time to think about just how crazy this is what I'm about to do, then I'll bottle it and end up back to square one. I mean this_ is_ crazy, it's shear madness, never in all the times that I've sat by myself and got legless did I ever think I'd be doing something like this. I can't help but feel kind of excited about how this day could turn out though. I'm not holding my hopes out for much but even if he talks to me for a only a short while, it's something. I'm nervous, I'm nervous as hell, but I need to find out once and for all if I can fix what I broke.

Arriving at the outskirts of the village, I imagine all of the things me and JP might get up to tomorrow, or next week even. I often go into my own little world these days, and it's always him I'm thinking of. Not in a sexual way - well not all of the time anyway - but more often than not it's just normal, boring stuff like kicking a ball about in Hollyoaks park or buying some sweets from Drive 'n' Buy and taking them round his to watch TV together. Sounds kinda stupid I know, but it's those times I miss the most, it's those times that I want back more than anything. Ok so I'm getting way ahead of myself but it _might_happen, this is the first time in a long while that I've allowed myself to feel any kind of hope so I'm clinging on to it for now and I ain't letting go until I find him.

It's not long before I'm back home, bypassing The Dog as I make my way towards the bridge leading into the centre of the village. Figuring I've got a couple more minutes until I reach the McQueen's, I try to go over in my head things I could say to him. A simple sorry won't do it that's for sure, but what else could I say to make this whole mess any better?

'Sorry for gay-bashing you mate, fancy a beer?' No.**  
><strong>**  
>'<strong>Hi, how are you? Errm, so have you and Spike shagged yet?' Woah, hell no!

'Hiya mate, wanna hear a funny story? I'm in love with you, ha! Can you believe it? I know, I thought the same thing when I…'

SHIT!

I dive back under the bridge as I spot John Paul sat outside Il Gnosh on his own. I don't believe it, I've been feeling so bloody determined all the way home from school and when I finally see him, what do I do? I have a fucking heart attack and dive for cover! I need to sort myself out pronto, it's only John Paul for God's sake, I've spoken to him a thousand times before. Granted most of those times were back when we were actually on speaking terms but even so, I shouldn't be feeling like this. It's how he makes me feel though, just seeing him sitting there is making my heart beat ten to the dozen and causing a sweat to break out in the palms of my hands. He's not looking up though, he's to busy munching on his chips by the looks of it so I'm confident he didn't spot me across the street. It's around about now that I'd have walked up to him and made a sarky comment about him being a greedy git, then he'd call me a rake or a twiglet and we'd have a giggle… and then I'd start nicking his food. He always used to let me though.

He looks… well, he looks… _so_, so good. He's only wearing a plain hoody and jeans, but the look suits him. His hair looks lighter than usual as well, the bright sun reflecting off it making him glow. God he's a good looking boy isn't he? How the fuck I never noticed sooner is completely alien to me, I was too busy chasing Sarah to notice what was right in front of me all along. I'm an idiot, that's all I can say, a total idiot.

Ok come on now, I can do this. I just need to go over there, apologise for being an idiot and then tell him the truth. I'm in absolute turmoil here though, I've got one voice in my head saying he'll welcome me back into his life with open arms and another voice telling me he's gonna look at me with nothing but disgust and walk away. Bloody fucking hell! This seemed like a good idea when I thought of it back in that classroom, but let me tell you, it is _so_much harder now that I've come to actually approaching him. He probably won't even want to know me anyway, I practically ran away from him like he was diseased yesterday so who can blame him if he does the same to me now? I need to do this though, I can't bail out now. Come on Craig, do it now, walk over there, explain to him how stupid you've been. Grow a pair of fucking balls for once in your life!

This is it, I'm really going to do this. I inhale a shaky breath as I take the first step out of the secure shade of the bridge and out into the sun. It feels like my legs are going to buckle beneath me as I start to head over to him, thousands of thoughts and feelings whizzing around my head. I could quite easily throw my guts up in the gutter right now because there's so much riding on these next few moments. I don't think I've ever felt nerves like this before.

And then I stop, and my heart stops, and before I know it I'm flat against the inside of the bridge wall again, covered in darkness. Where the hell did _he_ come from?

I knew it, how could I have been so stupid to think that I might actually be able to catch John Paul on his own without his annoying shadow being around? It didn't for a second cross my mind just then that he may have been waiting for someone, and of course that someone has to be Spike doesn't it? I'm so stupid, I actually managed to convince myself that John Paul would want anything to do with me when all the while he's sat having lunch with his boyfriend. I can't help but look over again at the pair of them though, I swear I do it just to torture myself sometimes. I'm gutted, really gutted. Moisture fills my eyes as I watch them talking, Spike grinning away as they no doubt share a joke together or plan their next date night. Who am I kidding? He's moved on, he doesn't need me causing problems for him when everything's going right in his life. I'm a loser, I've always been a loser. I knew he'd find that out for himself eventually, and he has.**  
><strong>**  
><strong>I quickly look away just as he turns towards me, hunching my shoulders to avoid looking over at him again as I walk away hurriedly. So maybe I am still friendless, but at least I didn't make a complete tit out of myself in front of him. I break out into a jog as I near the alleyway, desperate to just get as far away from them both as I possibly can. I can still feel his eyes boring into my back as I reach the opening next to The Loft, walking maybe ten or so feet before it finally becomes too fucking much and I have to stop, leaning myself against the wall when the raw emotion of what just nearly happened hits me. Tears begin to trickle down my face, my body devoid of energy as it slides to the floor. I pull my knees up close to me, sobbing heavily as I think about what I'm left with now. I can't do this anymore, I'm fed up with feeling like this. I know what I did to him was shit but I can't keep doing this for the rest of my life can I? Every fucking day I wake up and it's the same longing that I feel inside of me, so what am I supposed to do? What the fucking fuck am I supposed to do about it?

"Aarrghh!" I feel like tearing my hair out as I struggle to keep myself from falling apart in full view of the entire community. Absolutely everything has gone to shit, and after today I think we can safely include my education in that statement. I never thought all those months ago that my actions would lead me to here, with no friends and no chance of ever making it to Uni. I try to calm my breathing down again as I sit here crying silently to myself, thinking back once more to the time when I had an amazing friend who I wish everyday I still had. 

After a few minutes I brush the tears away from my face roughly and stand up ready to leave, I probably look a right state but I can't exactly stay here all day can I? Someone's bound to walk through here eventually, so I secure my bag around my shoulders again and begin to walk back in the direction that I've just come from, albeit at a much slower pace. I don't quite manage to keep my emotions totally in check as I near The Dog, but there's no-one about so it doesn't much matter. I walk in through the back door to avoid having to see Darren, one; because I know he'd have a hundred and ten questions for me if he was to see the state I'm in, and two; because technically I'm still in an exam as far as he's concerned.

There is one silver lining though as I close the door behind me, the beer's been delivered! Eyeing up the crates of Carlsberg, I hesitate for about… hmm, maybe two seconds?… before tearing open the plastic covering and extracting a couple of bottles to take with me up to my room. It's not often I can use an excuse like this, but today it really is for medicinal purposes that I'm stealing Darren's stock. If anything can ease the pain of a broken heart, alcohol can… for a little while at least.

Bottles in hand I take my sorry arse up the wooden hills, heavy heart and all. Never mind, I fancied a night in anyway.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thank you for reading x<strong>_


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